Aftermath
by Moon Shadow Magic
Summary: An extension that picks up at the end of Chapter 36 of Deathly Hallows, just because I wasn't done reading. Final chapter is done.
1. Remnants

Author's Notes: This is the first part of a continuation after chapter 36 of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, for no good reason except that I wanted to read a little more. Not knowing the rating system very well, this is for anybody who could read _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. I probably won't change anything due to criticism, constructive or not, because this was written strictly for my pleasure. Flames will be used to lower my heating bill. Flattery warms the cockles of my heart.

I certainly will depart from canon on some points, try as I might not to do so.

I had originally set the raid on Gringott's on a Monday morning towards the middle of May. I have since learned that it was to be on the first of May, with the defeat of Voldemort on the morning of the 2nd. In 1998 this was a Saturday. A few minor corrections have been made to comply with this date.

In any case, enjoy. (Disclaimer at the end.)

Remnants

Putting one foot in front of the other had become a challenge. Harry's eyes were trying to drift shut of their own accord, despite the rest of him being upright and walking, or at least shuffling, toward Gryffindor Tower. The others were no better off, he was sure. It didn't help that they had had to detour down a floor. He nearly ran into Hermione when she stopped suddenly; she pointed her wand at a wall and said "_Tapeto ex duro_" as she waved them back. A stone curtain became a tapestry, and they remembered....

Two bodies tumbled halfway out of the passage hidden behind the tapestry. They looked at one another, dismayed.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" said Hermione, obviously concentrating. The otter bounded out of the tip of her wand, looked back at her for an instant, and swam back down the corridor, turning to slide down the staircase. "That should warn Professor McGonagall."

"The Carrows might still be in the Ravenclaw Common Room," said Harry slowly.

"People are going to start coming out of the Great Hall pretty soon, aren't they? Everybody's tired, they'll all want a kip--" Ron sounded worried.

Harry had his own wand out. "Accio Wands." Two wands flew into his hand, one of them split near the tip. The Death Eaters still did not move. He risked a closer look.

One was surely dead. His head hung at an impossible angle as Ron and Harry pulled him out onto the floor. The second one was unconscious. Hermione looked up and down the corridor.

"_Homenum Revelio_." After a few seconds' concentration she looked at Ron and Harry.

"There's no one ahead of us, but someone's coming from below. Fast."

In a few seconds Professor McGonagall and Arthur Weasley rounded the corner behind them, followed by Charlie and a man they didn't recognize.

"Are they alive? Good heavens! Charles, Mr. Boot, could you take this one to the entrance hall, the Healer will tell you what to do. I'm afraid the other will wait until someone returns. Thank you for the Patronus, Miss Granger, although Mrs. Weasley thought of the same thing some time ago when she noticed you three missing. You were going to Gryffindor Tower? We will escort you, but Arthur and I will need to be certain that it is cleared first."

"Professor, I remembered the Carrows, are they still in the Ravenclaw Common Room?"

"They were removed last night. Did anything else happen that requires immediate attention?"

"Well-- there's the Room of Requirement-- Crabbe and his Fiendfyre. That was in the room where people hid stuff. I guess Neville would be the best one to check whether anyone can still get in," said Ron.

"Fiendfyre! We'll need Hagrid too, it may have spawned Ashwinders. And Crabbe? I haven't seen him--"

"He-- he didn't get out. I'm sorry, Professor...." said Harry, seeing her expression.

He gave her the two wands and fell in beside her as she started to walk. Just behind him Arthur spoke.

"The portraits knew where you had gone, of course, but Molly suggested rather strongly that we should be looking for any wounded or, um, overlooked Death Eaters. After we're sure the dormitories and the ways to them are clear we'll finish the rest of the castle. We already have the ghosts looking."

Harry said nothing for a moment, but he could feel Hermione's eyes on the back of his head. Well, he wasn't a student anymore, was he? And this was serious.

"Um, Professor-- I have something that might help," he said, pulling the Marauder's Map from his pouch and tapping it with his wand, murmuring "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"Potter, what... Arthur, look at this! We're here, there is the– er– body.... Potter, this is marvelous, where did it come from? Did Sirius have this? Now, Gryffindor Tower... no, they're all students, that saves a great deal of effort... but I don't recognize this name in the Astronomy Tower...Is this reliable?"

"Um... yes, Sirius and Lupin helped make it, and they said it didn't lie." He did not feel like elaborating.

"I cannot help but think that this explains some other things as well. However, if we may borrow it for a few hours, I think it will be safe for you three to go to your old rooms. But do keep your wands out. I have been informed that the password is now 'Victorious.' I expect there will be others arriving as soon as we have cleared the castle and we can allow those in the Hall to leave it. Thank you, Potter."

"Kingsley told us to make any number of Portkeys we needed, and the train will be coming tomorrow," said Mr. Weasley tiredly as Professor McGonagall strode back down the corridor. "There is going to be some kind of gathering before everyone leaves and I think more people will be coming for it. Hermione, I'll send Ginny up, with Molly if she'll go. I don't think anyone should be alone yet, so don't go anywhere by yourselves. By this evening we should know better what's going on." He turned away and followed McGonagall.

The halls and stairs had never seemed so endless, but soon they were climbing the last staircase to the echoing applause of the portraits and suits of armor lining the walls, and stepping into the Common Room. Its clock read a little after nine in the morning. Hermione took out changes of clean clothing for Ron and Harry and sent them upstairs as soon as the portrait- hole opened to admit others.

Harry was able to finish one of the sandwiches Kreacher had left before he kicked off his battered trainers and lay down, three wands under his pillow, and remembered nothing more.

Ron was shaking his shoulder. "Harry, time to get up. Dinner." A little groggy, and very stiff and sore– his right hand hurt, where he had held the burning cup and the diadem, and his chest ached as though he had been kicked by a hippogriff– he sat up and saw that Neville, Dean and Seamus also had been sleeping. He found the map, placed on top of his clean clothes, folded; that must have been George. In addition there were mattresses and sleeping bags on the floor. "Watch where you step. Everyone's had to double up and there's people all over the Common Room and the balcony-- everywhere but the stairs. We got Dad and my brothers, they just went down. He wants us to wash up first. Can't think why."

Water drove the last of the cobwebs out of Harry's brain, although it felt awkward not having a shirt and House tie or Hogwarts robes in which to go down to dinner; but when they arrived it was evident that dinner was, for tonight, a most informal affair.

The Malfoys were once again at the Slytherin side, but now Goyle and Narcissa were apparently trying to comfort a woman hunched over the table. Harry suddenly realized it must be Crabbe's or Goyle's mother, and wondered if their fathers were still alive. The faces of those he had known among Hogwarts' dead came to his mind, but he had not paid much attention to the Death Eaters. He saw Draco and Lucius standing awkwardly off to one side and left Ron in order to approach them, pulling out the hawthorn wand.

"Draco, here. Take this. I think your mother will need hers back. It should work again for you if it's freely returned, I think–"

Draco Malfoy took the wand from Harry's hand. From his expression as he grasped it Harry could tell that they were both satisfied. He pointed it toward the bare wall, and silver sparks flared from the tip. Then he met Harry's eyes.

"Thank you."

Harry nodded and turned to go, but Lucius' voice stopped him. "If I may ask, Potter– what is to become of the Elder Wand?"

Harry had expected the question, and gave the answer he had worked out.

"Broken if possible. Hidden if not. Whatever power it really has will be no match for what people will think it does, and I don't need a lifetime of dueling. Remember Draco's wand defeated it twice; I don't think it's unbeatable, not the way Voldemort thought it was." He hoped it was close enough to pass for the truth.

Lucius Malfoy nodded. "Do so, then, Potter. Not many would, in their ignorance and ambition."

As they spoke Draco bent down beside his mother, and came back holding out a familiar shape.

"Mother's been using this since you were brought to the Manor. I think Miss Granger would like it back." He almost stumbled over the name but Harry decided to ignore it, thanking him instead and turning to go before their truce faded.

Although he went to the Gryffindor table, joining Hermione, the Weasleys, and Neville's grandmother, there were Luna and her father as well as Ernie McMillan and his parents, and several others from the DA with their families. Xeno Lovegood looked very much the worse for his stay in Azkaban, although he rose and thanked them effusively for rescuing Luna. He rambled an awkward apology until Dean and Luna herded him onto a bench and diverted his attention with food. Neville's grandmother and Molly Weasley were reminiscing about the Prewetts; Harry suspected Mrs. Longbottom had started the conversation.

As soon as he seated himself, however, all of his attention was occupied with the fact that Ginny was taking the place to his left, with Hermione and then Ron on his right, and that a Hogwarts dinner was an impossible time to have a private conversation. He had no idea where to begin, but she forestalled him.

"Harry, can we talk later? I know we've got a lot to say, but this isn't the place. It might be a while yet 'til we get a chance-- we might have to get all of this over with first--"

She looked away, unable to finish.

He found her hand beneath the table and squeezed it. "I'm here when you need me."

As the meal wandered to a close, Professor Slughorn rose and asked for silence, announcing for those who had come late to the Hall that a memorial service would begin at nine-thirty in the morning on the grounds, that there would be a brief meeting for the student body afterwards, and that Headmaster Snape's funeral would begin at two in the afternoon.

Harry felt a chill. The lawn where Dumbledore's tomb was? Had it already been re-sealed?

Hermione had turned to look at him, and so had Ron, and they all rose. He felt like running; but then Slughorn was there, asking him to sit in the front row, and Harry was realizing that he had to be famous again for a while. To Slughorn's obvious surprise Harry insisted upon sitting with the Weasleys and Hermione. At last they escaped the Great Hall.

"Potter, a word if you please--" They had nearly made it to the door. But, Harry realized suddenly, Professor McGonagall should know how to restore the tomb; he had been wondering whether a simple repairing spell would work without the power of the Elder Wand, and if the object was to put it back inside first....

"Yes, Professor. Just me, or all of us?"

"All three of you, this need not be private." She led the way to a classroom door she could force open. It was strange to dust off a few desks, the Professor pulling a seat around for herself, with long, golden evening light spilling through a broken wall into a demolished classroom.

"You will have heard about the service tomorrow. It will be nothing as formal as Dumbledore's funeral; Kingsley will be here to speak, and I and the other Heads of Houses. I wish to reassure you that we are not asking you to do so, although there will be opportunity for anyone to contribute. The important thing is that all of us who fought may never meet again all at once. Professor Slughorn is arranging everything-- has he seen you?"

"Um, yes. But, Professor-- will this be where Dumbledore's tomb is? Voldemort broke into it-- has it been fixed?"

"No, we will be closer to the Quidditch pitch. We have not been allowed to touch the tomb, on Headmaster Snape's orders-- presumably from Voldemort. That is the most important thing I must ask of you. We may need Dumbledore's wand to repair it. If we cannot, we must build a new structure to encase the old, but for these last weeks we have been permitted only to protect it from the weather.

"Which brings us to the next item. The rest of the students and guests have been told to fix nothing about the castle unless it is dangerously unstable, or necessary in the dormitories and bathrooms. Visitors are already arriving, and it has been decided that they will see for themselves the effects of the battle. The staff will be restoring classrooms, for instance, only if they are needed for housing." All three nodded.

"Professor, are you Headmistress now?" asked Harry.

McGonagall turned her head slightly, suddenly looking older and very weary. Had this past year done that to her, or had he simply not noticed before?

"The formal announcement will be made tomorrow while Kingsley is here, but yes, the remaining governors have requested that I fill the position for at least the next year."

"Then you'll figure this out anyway, as soon as you talk to the other headmasters' portraits. But it has to remain a secret among us." Quickly Harry repeated his plans for the Elder Wand. "If we need the Elder Wand to fix the tomb, I'll have to find another place to hide it, or break it afterwards. But if you could come with us now, there shouldn't be anyone else around to see what we're doing."

For a moment McGonagall was silent. When she did speak her voice was not steady as she looked at each of them.

"I am glad, Potter. I should have expected no less. I cannot say how proud I am, of all of you." She took a deep breath and rose. "Let us go and try now. And then I believe I must sleep."

It was a fine evening for the walk down to the white tomb near the lake, although the air around it shimmered oddly. The spell protecting it from the weather incorporated a Disillusionment Charm, which distorted its view; a refinement, they learned, of Professor Flitwick's. Professor McGonagall made an odd motion as if parting a curtain, and had them go in before her. As they passed through the barrier, the faint sounds of revelry from the direction of the village were muted.

Harry had already seen the burial violated through Voldemort's eyes, although he did not want to move where he could see any more of the body inside. The open crack ran lengthwise, and it looked as if the halves might yet fall apart.

"And then there is this. It was removed from Voldemort's robes, but it also belongs to you, Potter." McGonagall held out another wand, very much as though it had been a rotten flobberworm. A bleached wooden shape reminiscent of the fangs of a striking viper served as a grip. Harry took the twin to his phoenix wand gingerly. It didn't feel nearly as pleasant as his.

"I don't need it. But other people will want it, won't they? Just like Dumbledore's wand."

"I cannot imagine that no one would try to take it."

"I should break it, then."

"Hold it for yourself, properly, but do not use it," said McGonagall. Harry closed his eyes. "What do you feel?"

"It doesn't feel right, of course, but there's something else--" he opened his eyes again--"like an extra layer on the outside. Did he reinforce it somehow?"

"Very good. Miss Granger, would you try?"

Hermione took it unwillingly. "It feels as if it likes to cause pain, just like Bellatrix's, but there's that extra bit too.... " Her voice trailed off thoughtfully as she handed it to Ron.

"It feels almost like that locket. But I bet it's cursed too, like the ring, isn't it? That's what they feel, something so anyone breaking it gets cursed."

"Excellent logic, Mr. Weasley. You are all quite correct. This wand has protection that few other wizards of our time could have provided, and should that protection fail, it would have revenge. It is still dangerous; the curse has not died with the owner. I fear that a similar curse may have been put upon the Elder Wand.

"Had this been a normal year, part of your education would have been in detecting such traces of magic, and distinguishing which might be Dark. Well done, all of you."

"What about this one, Professor?" Hermione held out the walnut wand.

"I assume it belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange? It is not protected or cursed in that way." Hermione took it back as Harry spoke.

"Now, for these two. What's the best thing to do? Go away for the summer maybe, stay out of sight for a bit, then tell everyone they're lost or destroyed?" he asked.

"That is one effective option, and would help prevent you from being attacked on their account. May I?" McGonagall's wand sent the fanged one drifting into the rent in the marble close to Dumbledore's feet.

"It can stay there too. Potter, will you try replacing Dumbledore's wand first?"

"_Wingardium Leviosa_–"

The Elder Wand floated toward the broken marble block, finally disappearing inside the center of the crevice.

"Now let us all try. Three, two, one– _Sarcophagus Repairem_–"

All four spells hit the tomb. The result was not as spectacular as at Dumbledore's funeral, but to Harry's surprise the same white flames flashed up, licking at the cracks in the stone and invisibly sealing them, save for a single crystalline glint where the long rift had been. On closer inspection Harry was not sure whether it was a flaw or not; it was no wider than a blade of grass and danced in and out of the once- again smooth surface, blending with the faint veins already in the stone. Perhaps it had been there before.

"There is one more thing we could do, Potter. If anyone really wants that wand, they will come after you first. We can perform the Fidelius Charm. Whether or not you elect to be Secret- Keeper yourself, it will not stop anyone from trying to get the location from you, but it will prevent any of us from betraying it while you live. If you wish another to do so, that is among you three. I am likely to pre-decease all of you, at which time you would need to renew the charm."

Harry saw Ron and Hermione nod at him, leaving the choice in his hands. "Okay, Professor. I'll do it. What do we need to do?"

"You two may stand over there; when we are done, you will please ask both of us where this tomb is. Potter, you must concentrate upon the Elder Wand. Do not think of the tomb itself or of Dumbledore, just the wand, otherwise we may have a great deal to explain. Nod when you are ready."

As always happened when Harry needed to focus, thoughts about everything else tried to intrude. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and forced himself; and suddenly it was much easier, as it had been at Shell Cottage to block out Voldemort.... He decided to do one better, and concentrated on both wands. After a few more seconds, he nodded.

"_Fidelio_."

He felt the spell find him, find the two wands in his mind, try his resolve to hold them there in the blackness a few yards away. Then it seemed to diminish, curling itself around his memory of the wands and settling as if to hibernate. He opened his eyes as Hermione spoke, asking Ron and McGonagall where Dumbledore was buried, then asking himself. It was done. As he turned away from the tomb he saw that McGonagall had removed Flitwick's barrier as well.

Hermione walked toward the lake and called them all to follow.

"Ron, could you stand there? Okay, Harry, over there, and Professor, here.... Harry, you throw this as high as you can toward the lake, I'd like us all to blast it."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other, wands ready, as Hermione counted to three and Harry whipped Bellatrix's wand high in the air. Four voices yelled "_Confringo_!" almost in unison. The enormous _BOOM_ of four colliding Blasting Spells nearly deafened them, rolling for a long time among the mountains and across the lake. Pulverized walnut scattered toward the water and over it.

"They will have heard that from Hogsmeade to the Forest. If anyone saw, as far as they're concerned it can be the Elder Wand."

"Brilliant!"

They started back to the castle, slowly, talking to the new Headmistress of Hogwarts as freely as to one another about the past year. Harry realized that Neville had hardly scratched the surface when they had spoken last evening; for her part, McGonagall asked penetrating questions, shaking her head in amazement and horror at their descriptions of Bathilda's house and the Horcruxes. As they reached the door she stopped to take her leave.

"The train will come tomorrow. The school will be closed until next week, but classes will resume on Monday next. You will all be here, of course."

"But we dropped out–" said Ron, puzzled. Hermione gasped.

"There will be more detail forthcoming. But many students have not completed this year, and many more did not satisfy the requirements for magical ancestry. Those that did are so ill-prepared for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s that the next month of studying will likely make little difference. The only solution so far is to administer final tests, and the O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.s, on time as usual and use the results to develop the next year's curriculum. It means there will be an extra year's worth of students to house, and classes must be larger; but the staff and governors are all agreed that it must be tried...."

"Professor, this is true? We can really come back?" Then Hermione's embrace knocked the breath out of McGonagall. Harry felt lucky that she hadn't shrieked too.

McGonagall left them at the entrance hall, and they could hear her chuckling.

The sun was going down. Ron looked into the Great Hall, which seemed to have become the Common Room for all the visitors who had nowhere else to go until the next day; Hogsmeade, Harry was sure, must be filled to bursting as it had been the previous June, despite the short notice: they had been able to hear the celebration from the grounds. He moved over to the announcement board. Everything had been removed except for two large parchments, one saying that classes would resume on a schedule yet to be determined on the next Monday, to give families and students the opportunity to go home for funerals, and to arrange Portkeys through Professor Flitwick; the other was the inevitable butcher's bill that Harry had been dreading. Fifty- odd names on the top half, many of whom he had known to some degree, a few teachers whose classes he had taken; three close friends; some names obviously belonging to house- elves or Centaurs; some members of the Order. Among the rest he recognized surnames– probably relatives who, like Molly Weasley, had needed to stand between their children and those trying to take their lives. Crabbe's name was there; Harry wondered if he should say anything about it. Severus Snape had been included– well, the life he had kept so private had been so thoroughly exposed– just that morning?

The lower half was a listing of Death Eaters. Both Crabbe's and Goyle's fathers, Bellatrix, Greyback, Macnair, many names familiar but most not; a few very familiar indeed, Slytherins who had been in their sixth or seventh year. And near the bottom of the list, no larger than any other name, was "Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort."

He realized that he wasn't alone when Ginny took his hand. After a moment he asked, "How's George? And your mum?"

"A little better. I know how it feels to lose Fred, it's bad enough, but I can't begin to understand what it's like for George. I doubt they'd ever been apart for a day in their lives. Lee Jordan's kind of sticking close to him, and the team is there too. Mum's just gone up to the infirmary with Hermione and Ron, and Dad's at home now with Bill and Fleur and Charlie, getting things ready. They'll be back first thing tomorrow."

"And how are you?"

Ginny was silent for a moment, then: "Very tired. Mum couldn't sleep today until one of the Healers gave both her and George a sleeping draught."

"Healers?"

"St. Mungo's sent everybody they could spare at dawn. Madame Pomfrey did far too much last night, so they sent her to bed as soon as they got in the door. I think maybe you ought to find somebody to look you

over– these look like burns–" she held up his sore hand– "and your face is a mess–"

"I'll get Hermione to lend me the dittany again–"

"They're in the infirmary by now anyway."

She pulled him away from the list, and they started upstairs.

"When will Fred's funeral be?"

"The day after tomorrow. Lupin's and Tonk's too– all in the churchyard at Ottery St. Catchpole. Andromeda Tonks is coming, of course. You'll get to meet your godson."

"That's right– does she know...?"

"I think they must have told her, don't you? In case this happened. And then there's a few days until we have to be back here. Will you be coming back?"

"Professor McGonagall told us we could, although I'm not sure what I could learn in a month that would help me with N.E.W.T.s. She said she'd say more about it tomorrow."

"Harry, I'll try break this to you gently: you'll probably get an 'Outstanding' in Defense Against the Dark Arts just by signing your name."

For some reason that did it. He tried to laugh quietly, tears streaming down his face, but at the moment the corridor was empty. By the time he stopped their arms were around each other, holding tight.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you, too. Can we stop pretending we've broken up?"

"Don't I need to apologize first?"

"No, not really," Ginny sighed, resigned. "You just wanted to keep your underage girlfriend from getting kidnapped or killed, like Mum and Dad. I didn't like it, of course. But I didn't much like fighting, either, it just had to be done."

"I really am sorry I had to play dead like that, though. I know it hurt all of you but it was the only way to get away from the Death Eaters and get to Voldemort and that snake.... and I am so sorry about Fred."

"I know."

Eventually they felt like continuing.

The Healer was tired and inclined to complain that Harry should have tended to himself long before, all the while conducting a thorough examination, muttering about burns, bruises, and the welts on the insides of his legs. Harry didn't answer when the man grumped about what did he think he'd been doing, getting into such a fight at his age, he'd better appreciate how lucky he was.... The Healer hadn't recognized the scar on Harry's forehead; Harry wondered what might happen if he mentioned his name, and immediately crushed the idea. He didn't need to make the man feel worse. Ginny was waiting outside the infirmary when it was over, a little more cheerful; she had seen a list of patients transferred to St. Mungo's, including some friends she had been worried about. For lack of anywhere else, they started for Gryffindor Tower, having missed the others.

"You will tell me, in great detail, exactly what happened out there, but not tonight. Are you going to write everything down before that Skeeter woman does, or are you going to repeat it every time someone asks?"

"McGonagall said something about that too. Victorious–"

Smiling at them, the Fat Lady had started to open before he'd finished the password.

"I bet Ron's waiting up for us...."

Ron was indeed in the Common Room, and so were many others, most quite willing to turn and look at Harry. Hermione came to meet them at the door, asking quietly if they were all right, smiling as they nodded and then indicating the crowded corner where Ron stood. Suddenly the corner was much noisier; Harry recognized a Muffliato charm and he and Ginny were being loudly welcomed into a massive Quidditch blow- by- blow discussion, greeting Jimmy Coote and Ritchie Peakes and Demelza Robins, who were all a little star- struck over Oliver Wood– Harry had not even noticed the night before that he had come dressed in Puddlemere United robes. George was there, mostly withdrawn but chiming in occasionally. As Wood was finishing a story about his first professional match (Puddlemere two hundred and ten to seventy, against Caerphilly) Harry wondered what had happened at school over the past year. He tossed the question out into the lull.

"No Quidditch at all this year," said Peakes. "The Carrows announced that the first week. Of course they said it was too much distraction from schoolwork and too dangerous, especially since they sacked Madame Hooch–"

"I just saw her at dinner–"

"She came back with everyone this morning. Anyway we all figured there was no way they'd allow a student a broom in case we tried to escape, even though there was no way we could get past the dementors and the boundary."

George finally smiled a little and said, "Sorry."

It took them a moment to remember, and then there was pandemonium, with ten or eleven people at once laughing and crying, trying to tell a puzzled Oliver about the twins' escape from Umbridge and Hogwarts two years before.

It was another twenty minutes before the laughter and the talk quieted a bit and they started drifting off to bed. Ginny had squeezed Harry's hand and left with Hermione, and he and Ron followed.

"You and Ginny patched things up?" asked Ron quietly as they entered their dorm. Neville and Seamus were snoring a little.

"Yes," said Harry, not wanting an argument; but he had determined that he would no longer back down from Ron or anyone else about Ginny.

"Good," said Ron simply. Harry must have looked a little blank, because Ron continued, "You're alive, mate. You weren't expecting to be, were you? Anyway, Hermione threatened me. I'm not to fuss."

"Threatened you with what?"

"Mum. Said she'd tell her how high my standards were last year."

They managed not to wake anyone else in the room, which was a waste of effort as soon as George, Oliver, and Dean came to bed, still talking Quidditch as they unrolled sleeping bags.

(End Part 1)

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	2. Remembrance

Author's Notes: This is the second part of a continuation after chapter 36 of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. It is rated for anybody who could read _DH_. I probably won't change anything due to criticism, constructive or not, because this was written strictly for my pleasure. Flames will be used to start up the burn- barrel. Praise makes me preen.

I will depart from canon on some points, no doubt; I don't really keep track of current HP disclosures.

I had originally set the raid on Gringott's on a Monday morning towards the middle of May. I have since learned that it was to be on the first of May, with the defeat of Voldemort on the morning of the 2nd. In 1998 this was a Saturday. A few minor corrections have been made to comply with this date.

This continues directly from Part 1 and begins Sunday morning.

Remembrance

HOGWARTS MOURNS FALLEN STUDENTS AND STAFF; MINISTRY LAUDS VALOR. Hogsmeade. _In a service this morning reminiscent of one almost a year ago, the students and staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry gathered in the open air to take final leave of their own. As before, seemingly every member of Great Britain's magical community who could arrange to do so made his or her way to Hogsmeade, where the citizens outdid their efforts of last June to feed and house everyone they could. Many old students and relatives of current Hogwarts pupils had been accommodated at the castle itself since the great battle two nights before, despite the damage done in the fighting._

_These were the people to whom words of sorrow and comfort, loss and praise were addressed. Even a week ago many of them would not have been openly called "people," for scattered among the crowd were the Hogwarts house- elves, and at the edges stood a giant and many representatives of the Centaurs who call the Forbidden Forest their home; two of their number supported Professor Firenze, who insisted upon attending although able to stand only upon three legs. The merfolk of the lake also rose, their singing enhancing the mood of the occasion._

_The only formal eulogy was given by Slytherin's Professor Slughorn, who spoke of the courage of Headmaster Severus Snape, including mysterious references to the battle for which no complete account yet exists. The other three Heads of Houses then joined in reading a roll of Hogwarts' deceased, citing the circumstances of their deaths if known, and soliciting responses from the assembly for those not known. In this way nearly a quarter of the dead finally had their stories completed, amid the tears of both participants and spectators. Afterward the Heads of Houses expressed their sorrow for lives cut short and families torn asunder, and the boundless pride felt alike for the students who stayed to fight (or who wished to stay) and for their families and friends and the village of Hogsmeade who turned out at dawn yesterday to come to the aid of the school. A respectful address of gratitude was accorded to the Centaurs, who accepted with great dignity; and thanks were given to the house- elves, who cheered in response. _

_Last to speak was the new Minister for Magic _pro tem_ Kingsley Shacklebolt. He also spoke only briefly; however, he addressed not only the school and the village but also the crowd at large, exhorting them never to forget the terrible price paid in pain and blood for the defeat of the greatest Dark wizard ever known. He finished with an official announcement, revealing the appointment of Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, to the post of Headmistress of Hogwarts._

_Conspicuously absent from the speeches were any but fleeting references to the Boy Who Lived, although Harry Potter was present along with many others who had been unable to attend Hogwarts while it was under the control of He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named. While the Minister himself has confirmed that the Dark Lord fell at Potter's hands, the only detail he has provided is that Potter did not employ any Unforgivable Curse to defeat You- Know- Who. _

_However, Mr. Potter had time to answer a brief question before being called away. When asked about his near- absence from the proceedings, he simply replied, "This wasn't about me, or Voldemort. This was for all of us who fought a battle the night before last, because we all lost friends or family or teachers. As you heard, we still don't know a lot of what happened." At that point a meeting for all students was announced and he excused himself in order to attend._

_Guests were free to wander the grounds and certain public areas of the castle, a privilege seldom permitted. Two rooms in particular were closed off near the entry hall: one large classroom used as a morgue, its door draped in black with the Hogwarts banner over all, and offerings of flowers, photographs, trinkets, and cards piled along the hallway; and a small office, simply roped off but guarded by one student and one adult, wherein lay the corpse of Voldemort himself. The dead among his followers had already been removed, either by relations or by the Ministry to Hogsmeade for local burials to be completed over the next few days._

_The castle itself was heavily damaged, although still habitable. The main staircase from the entrance hall has been shored up, its railing demolished in places; the Great Hall bears the marks of duels– melted pavement, broken windows, chipped stonework and scorch marks. Classrooms and corridors are now open to the air. From the outside, it appears a wonder that the Astronomy and North towers have not toppled, and holes gape at the sky from every wall._

_Around the grounds, a great deal of hard work will be needed to put things right. Two huge mounds now mark the spots where the Dark Lord's giants were buried just as they fell.... (continued on page 4)_

"At least it wasn't Rita Skeeter," Harry muttered as he found his seat again.

"He wasn't too bad," murmured Ginny beside him. "Not pushy."

"I know I've seen him somewhere...."

Professor Flitwick and Kingsley were off to one side, marshalling the families who needed to transport their dead. Between the sheer number of people who had come on the Hogwarts Express and the difficulty of moving such a number of caskets through King's Cross, Portkeys were being used almost exclusively. There would still be dozens of burials in Hogsmeade's small cemetary, many of them unclaimed Death Eaters but also some students whose kin had asked especially for plots near the school. For them, and for Headmaster Snape, Hagrid was even now striding off toward the paddock to harness thestrals to the carriages being pressed into service as hearses.

"Your attention, please...." Professor McGonagall began. There was little change from what she had told them privately last night, except that the first, second, and third years had their final exams cancelled, and fourth and sixth years would have the option of re-taking subjects in which they felt their scores were unsatisfactory ("Try 'abysmal,'" whispered Ron, "it's gonna be a really good word.") O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were to be administered, and the seventh years especially had far better hope of repeating an entire year minus preparing for one N.E.W.T. than they had of passing four or five with scores high enough to qualify for the particular careers they had chosen.

"This will mean that many classes will be much larger compared to previous years, as they will include those who were prevented from attending this year as well. Options for expanding housing and classroom space will be examined over the summer, and there will be changes to staffing and scheduling to accommodate the increase.

"For the present, the school will reopen and classes will resume on Monday next. Those who were unable to attend or complete classes but who wish to finish the year, please see Professors Vector and Sprout now. Schedules for you will be distributed when you return next week, and tutoring may be arranged."

The crowd thinned again. Ginny, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Demelza, and many others joined himself, Ron, and Hermione in a queue past the table behind which Professor Vector now seated herself with Professor Sprout, checking off names and handing out booklists.

As soon as he was done Kingsley approached him and asked for a few moments.

"I thought you ought to know a few things. Firstly, your uncle and his family are safe and will finish moving back into their house over the next few days. Secondly, we'll be moving Voldemort's body this afternoon by Portkey to Little Hangleton. We've arranged to bury him in his family plot," he said. "Voldemort killed a Muggle nearly four years ago in the Riddle family house; he was the caretaker, a man named Frank Bryce--"

"I remember about that."

"Well, he was suspected in the village all these years of doing away with the Riddle family. We've managed to put that to rest by putting the blame on Tom Riddle Junior, aged about seventy, a son by an undisclosed first marriage who'd been living abroad since the murders and again since returning and being caught in the house by Bryce. As far as the village will know, he was killed while trying to attack a boy at a school in Scotland. It's true enough, and you're still underage according to Muggles, so we don't have to give a name. It gives us an excuse to show up at an odd hour with a Muggle digger and a coffin."

"Thanks for telling me. I hadn't even thought of Frank Bryce."

"You've been busy. In any case, you may come if you wish--"

"I don't think so, sir."

"I didn't expect you to, really. That place can't hold good memories for you. But I brought guests to see you– over there they are. I'll be seeing you later, no doubt."

"Yes. Thank you– Minister."

Harry turned as his name was called, and he stood and gaped as they came over to him. There were Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle– and Dudley Dursley.

Diggle was as ebullient as ever, and even more so when Harry remembered that his house had been burnt down. Hestia Jones he had never known well, but he managed a polite greeting before holding his hand out to his cousin. Dudley was still heavy, but not nearly so much as Harry remembered, and his grip was firm.

"So this is the place. I don't know what to tell Dad, the village is only old- fashioned, it's all nearly normal– except for those elves, and the centaurs, and the mermaids, and the giant–"

Harry forbore to mention that Dudley had grown a vocabulary. For only the second time in his life he felt that he didn't have to be on his guard in his cousin's company, and suddenly he wanted to hear what had happened. He barely noticed that Hestia had pulled Dedalus away.

"Well, we drove away about half an hour, left the car in a car park, and teleported (just like the Mind Melters in "Space Destruction") to a house in the country. Back of nowhere really. Mum wasn't too bad, she likes to clean and that was a real project, and Hestia and she did a lot of gardening until it got cold. I wasn't sure why Dad wasn't worse, I'd expected him to roar around and demand to go home, and I was homesick, too. But a couple of times I caught Dedalus putting a spell on him–"

"I bet I know what he did. It won't have done any harm."

"It hasn't. He's fine. They did the same thing to me and Mum a few times, or so they say. Anyway, I couldn't go to school, and there wasn't any TV or computer, so I tried to keep in shape for boxing. There was a town a few miles away, and they had a little library. I don't know what Hestia did to the librarian but I checked out books when we walked in for shopping." Harry was flabbergasted but bit his tongue, determined not to ask about pictures.

"Then right before Christmas a few dementors found the village, and we had to be really careful. Dedalus can't really do what you did to drive them off, and Hestia couldn't do it for too long, and of course Mum and Dad and I couldn't even see them. They just hung around for months."

"I think they did that all over."

"Were they looking for you? Dedalus said you're really important, but Mum and Dad, well–"

"Maybe. They don't seem to have the brains to recognize particular people, though that depends on who you ask. They were just running wild after the Ministry fell last August."

"Anyway, they made things hard. The only other thing that happened was this radio programme Dedalus liked where people talked about you. I think it finally made some impression on Mum and Dad that something really bad was happening for them to talk about you not being dead. And that's all really until yesterday, when Mr. Shacklebolt showed up and said we could go home and our house was OK except they'd trashed the downstairs and your room. Hestia fixed most of that last night."

"He must have checked it for curses. Um, not that I'm not glad about it, but I'm surprised to see you here."

"Well, Dedalus talks a lot, and I saw a lot of stuff I probably wasn't supposed to, and I got curious. I had a good excuse too. You left a load of stuff in your room, and Mrs. Figg had a big package she brought over for you. It all fit in your trunk and they said I could bring it along."

"Thanks!"

"So what happened to you? I'll probably understand what you're talking about now."

It was nearly an hour later, after Dudley had been shown a bit of the castle and grounds and had a very large sandwich and pumpkin juice for lunch, that Hestia and Dedalus reclaimed him for the journey home, saying that the Ministry had arranged a Portkey for them straight to the Dursley's garden.

"I'm really glad you're all OK, and thanks for coming. Hestia, Dedalus– I really can't thank you enough for taking care of them–"

They were able to stop Dedalus wringing Harry's hand in time to catch the Portkey.

"...and it's weird, it's like they Transfigured him into a human or something!"

"At least he didn't get another tail from Hagrid!"

"Or a three- foot tongue?"

"To tell the truth, I think he wanted to keep away from Hagrid. He was busy, anyhow."

"I didn't even recognize him," said Arthur Weasley, "he seems to have lost some, um, baby fat."

"He said he'd been keeping in shape for boxing," said Harry.

"Oh– that sport where Muggles hit each others' faces with big gloves on? Marvelous...." Arthur sounded a bit more like himself, Harry was glad to hear.

Many guests were taking advantage of Hogwarts hospitality and the fine weather to picnic in the courtyard or on the grounds for some quiet privacy. In an hour the makeshift hearses would leave for Hogsmeade's churchyard and the funerals would begin; afterward the train would depart, only to return next Sunday. Harry supposed he ought to sign up for it.

"Just Apparate into Hogsmeade. Your trunk's already here," suggested Ron.

"He can't," said the Minister for Magic, approaching from behind Ron. "He never passed his test after he came of age."

"That's right. How do I go about that? Last year someone came here from the Ministry...."

"Well, let's see. Ron, Hermione– how much has he done on his own? A lot?"

"Well, a good bit..."

"Ever gotten lost or splinched himself?"

"No."

"Never."

"Harry, what's the hardest Apparition you've done?"

"Umm... Finding Bill and Fleur's without knowing where it was, and taking Dobby and Griphook along."

"And you arrived all right?"

"Yes, except Dobby died," replied Ron.

"RON! That's NOT what he meant! Sorry, sir. Dobby had been hurt before they Disapparated from Malfoy Manor; he wasn't splinched," said Hermione.

"Ah. In that case, Mr. Harry James Potter, keep this with you." Kingsley produced a card, tapping it with his wand and handing it to Harry. "I'll try to come tomorrow, Arthur, but there's a tremendous amount to be done. What time will it be?"

"Two in the afternoon."

"As I said, I'll do my best. I'll have to leave directly for Little Hangleton after Headmaster Snape's burial, so until then–"

"Thank you, sir!"

"We'll see you later, Kingsley."

Twenty- four hours until Fred's funeral. Two days ago, at this time, they had been miserably wet and cold, hanging on to a blind dragon's scales as it flew north....

The long procession of carriages with their coffins wound down the drive to Hogsmeade. From too many of the onlookers came gasps and exclamations at their very first sight of thestrals, and from somewhere close by drifted Luna's ethereal voice, explaining that they were harmless and really quite nice. Last came a coffin draped with the Hogwarts banner: Severus Snape had requested to be buried in the Hogsmeade graveyard without undue ceremony or delay, near to the school that had been his only real home. Harry had wondered briefly why not Godric's Hollow, but had realized that in order to be close to Lily Evans he would have had to be just as close to James Potter. And that, Harry knew from bitter years of acquaintance, Snape would have never permitted.

Nonetheless, he had fallen in directly behind the last carriage. A few students, past and present, came wearing Slytherin colors; the Malfoys walked behind. The internment was a very brief thing, and Harry turned to go, thinking he had been alone until he saw that the Weasleys and Hermione and Kingsley were also there, along with the rest of the survivors from the Order and the DA.

Afterward Harry decided to unpack his trunk, and relieve Hermione's beaded handbag of some of its contents. When they reached the Common Room she looked inside the bag and gave up. Setting it on the floor, she pointed her wand inside and said "_Accio_ Harry Potter's things," dumping dirty clothes, books, and the portrait of Phineas Nigellus on the floor as they popped out.

"What do we do with him?" she asked about the empty portrait.

"I think we ask Kreacher. Kreacher, could you come here please?"

There was a loud _crack_. "Master needs Kreacher?"

"Yes. Could you take this back to Grimmauld Place the next time you go? If it's safe--"

"Kreacher can go and come back in a few minutes...."

"Um, right, thanks, but before you go-- what happened after we left? We know we led the Death Eaters to Grimmauld Place, and then we couldn't call you in case they could come along...."

"Master need not have worried. Kreacher was watching for Master and his friends, and when strange men burst in and did not know how to quiet the dusty man or my old Mistress or that Master does not like to hear anyone called 'Mudblood,' Kreacher left and came back here, where no Dark wizards would think to look. Master may not remember once saying that everyone must run away and hide if the Dark Lord's people entered."

"I don't, but you did the right thing. We were worried about you. Have you been back there at all?"

"Kreacher went back yesterday, as Master slept. The bad wizards made messes and left curses, but Kreacher will be able to set most things right."

"That's good to know. Listen, I'll be away for a few days, then coming back here on Sunday. When term is over I might be going back to London for a while. I'm not sure what will happen exactly, I'll let you know then. You can stay here if you like, they might need your help."

"Master is very kind to Kreacher. Kreacher will help here until Master needs his house prepared."

"Kreacher-- well done, bringing up the house- elves yesterday. You were all tremendous," said Hermione.

A rather terrifying grin spread across the old elf's face.

"Kreacher wishes there were more. They hurt my old Mistress."

Arms full of Harry's things, he and Ron climbed up to their dormitory and dumped it all on his bed. His trunk had been brought up to its usual spot at the foot. He opened it, pulling out the first layer of dusty and torn robes, and found Mrs. Figg's package.

"Ron, look here! RON!"

"WHOA!"

He started ripping off the old newspaper, tossing a note on the bed, and finally it lay there. The twigs were terribly frayed and chewed, the finish was gone and the handle was split almost in two, but it was his Firebolt. For a long moment he stared at it, then rummaged on the bed until he found the note. Ron gave him a few seconds before asking what it said.

"Hagrid and I were only a few blocks away when we got hit the first time, he took us almost straight up. This fell out of the sidecar first thing but I had to grab Hedwig and my bag. Mrs. Figg says she was watching and saw the motorcycle and the lights from the spells, and just followed on foot, and kept going back that way every day for a week. She saw this up on a roof. She was waiting for a storm to blow it down, when Mundungus showed up one evening and she got him to Summon it before she let him hide in the garden shed for the night– maybe that was when Kreacher was after him– and then she had to hide it under her shed, when she needed to go away herself and couldn't take it. She says the handle was cracked when she first saw it."

"Good thing you and Mad-Eye went different ways. She might have run into Death Eaters that remembered her."

"I'll have to write her."

"Not right now, we have to pack. Do that this week and Pig'll deliver it. We can't be late today."

"Yeah, right. In any case, maybe I ought to get Madame Hooch to look it over."

"It'll take more than that, mate. But there are people who can fix racing brooms. I wouldn't try it yourself."

They left by Portkey within the hour. Harry took the Firebolt, having a vague notion that he should visit Diagon Alley and Quality Quidditch Supplies before returning to Hogwarts, although not before he'd spoken with Bill about Gringott's.

The Burrow had not been ransacked, but had nonetheless an unmistakable air of abandonment: the chickens that had survived had been running wild, gnomes had obviously been at the ragged garden, and many weeks' worth of dust lay thick inside anywhere that had not cleaned the night before. He gladly set to work with the Weasleys and Hermione, and by dinnertime sheets had been changed, dishes washed, and enough laundry started that Mrs. Weasley pronounced herself tired; and Charlie, George, Bill, and Fleur had disappeared, Apparating shortly afterward with two bags apiece full of things from Muriel's. Charlie had a traveling basket full of a spitting Crookshanks, who ran straight for Hermione and refused to leave her alone for the rest of the day.

Harry had known that Ottery St. Catchpole was a mixed wizarding community like Godric's Hollow, but it surprised him that there was a steady stream of knocks on the door that afternoon: the neighbors came, staying for no more than a few minutes at the door, expressing their condolences and leaving dishes; Mrs. Weasley was kept busy, putting most away but serving a large pot of soup for dinner.

Percy walked in later, exhausted and sad, and spent an hour or so with Mr. Weasley and Bill talking about the Ministry; evidently he had gone with Kingsley after Snape's funeral, with Mr. Weasley's blessing, and had gone with him to Little Hangleton. Harry didn't need the details; somewhat at loose ends, he rather wanted Ginny's company, or Ron's or Hermione's. Thinking they had perhaps gone outside, he wandered through the back door. After a moment he heard Ginny talking quietly to someone, and realized it was George. Not wishing to intrude, he turned away, but they had seen him and called him over.

They talked aimlessly for a while in the quiet twilit garden, and found themselves recounting parts of the time since Bill and Fleur's wedding. Eventually silence settled upon them. Harry waited, thinking perhaps George wanted to say something. After a moment he thought of a way to begin.

"There's something I think you ought to know. After Sirius was killed, I asked Nick what would have happened to him. Nick didn't really know; he said he'd been to afraid to– go on– himself." George nodded. "I haven't told anyone except Ron and Hermione what happened to me when I went to find Voldemort. But you know the story of the Deathly Hallows, right? You heard us in the Great Hall, that the wand he used was the Elder Wand? Well, the other two are real, too. The Resurrection Stone was found by Dumbledore, and he gave it to me. It can't resurrect the dead so much as sort of call up a memory of them. I needed help to face Voldemort, and I used the stone and my parents and Lupin and Sirius came. But they couldn't have stayed. They didn't belong here anymore, they had gone on in a way that Nick hadn't. I expected to go with them instead. But after Voldemort cursed me, I didn't die. I think I had the choice– I was in a place that– well, I saw– Anyway, I think what I want to say is that I'm not afraid anymore, not for me or them, any of them. What happened to Fred happened in an instant. It's us left without him, and Lupin, and Tonks, who are going through all the pain. It won't go away for a long time, but it will, and we'll still remember them."

They were all silent for a moment. Harry was wondering if he had made a mistake. Then George said, "You said Ron knows this?" Harry nodded. "So that's why he's been okay. Thanks for that. Could you maybe tell the rest of them? I mean, Mum's not going to believe that a fairy tale's true right away, but she'll take it from you better than me or Ron or Ginny."

"I will, if you think they'll believe me. The important parts, anyway. I mean, people do come up with stuff when they're knocked out–"

"You survived a Killing Curse, Harry, not a bludger to the nose! Anyway, you said you saw them before you met Voldemort. You don't still have the stone, do you?" asked Ginny.

"No. It was broken, and the pieces are scattered now. Like in the story, too, it's not really a good thing. I can see now where it could drive a man to suicide, trying to keep hold of someone that way."

"Good, then," said George, rising. "I think we ought to go in. It's dark and I don't want Mum worried just now."

They met Bill and Charlie and Fleur coming out the back door, ready to Disapparate to Shell Cottage for the night; they paused for a word with George. Harry followed Ginny up the stairs, making sure Hermione was in Ginny's room before continuing up to Ron's.

Monday morning came, and with it clouds that raced across the sky, raining and clearing again and again, changeable and windy. The house began to fill. Fleur's parents, Auntie Muriel, Mr. Ollivander, and a number of cousins came before Andromeda Tonks arrived with Teddy. Harry was permitted a few seconds with his godson before being shunted aside by everybody else in the Burrow. He changed into his Hogwarts robes, now clean and mended, and then they were all walking to the churchyard under a Disillusionment charm, and finally the light conversation and the manic laughter of the last few days were stilled as they met Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood and the Quidditch team, Kingsley and a few Aurors and others from the Ministry and the Order, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and Hagrid, the Diggorys and Lovegoods, and the neighbors who had shared their food last night. Three caskets, although Lupin and Tonks shared a headstone. Flowers. And, scattered here and there in the rows close by, more mounds of fresh dirt with more flowers laid on top.

The family stood together beside Fred's coffin as the clergyman from Ottery St. Catchpole's church spoke. Then Kingsley spoke and suddenly, as with Snape, it was all done; the coffins were being lowered into the earth and the earth was covering them as it covered Dobby weeks ago. Harry stood with Ron on one side and Ginny on the other and his tears joined theirs, not for the dead but for the living.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny managed to talk together in the evening, and found themselves planning what to do over the next few days. They agreed that a trip to Diagon Alley was needed-- not only for themselves and their books, but George and Lee wanted to see how badly the joke shop had been damaged, and Bill and Fleur needed to go to Gringott's. Hermione also wanted to see if the old tent was salvageable, but insisted that it should at least be located and the campsite cleaned up. Ginny was to take the train to Hogwarts on Sunday, and despite being free to Apparate the others decided to join her. Hermione and Ron had realized that they hadn't asked whether or not they would still be needed as prefects.

As there were still some hours of daylight left, they told Mr. Weasley about the tent. He looked as if he would have preferred to come along, but said nothing: Side- Along Apparition was difficult enough with one person, and Hermione was, as usual, taking both Harry and Ron. However, as she collected her beaded bag, she had Harry bring his cloak.

They were back in less than half an hour. The tent door had been open to the weather and the inside was damp and in disarray, but at least the smell of cats was not so prominent anymore. Arthur pronounced it fixable.

Ginny had been disappointed at being left, but as she and Harry talked later, she said it was probably for the best that he, at least, had gone along.

"Why?"

"I think it might have taken just Ron and Hermione a good bit longer, enough for Mum to miss them. That would have been a bad idea today. By the way, this was in with the things in Ron's room you didn't pack–" she produced a book from her robe– "but at least Mum didn't see it."

"I'd forgotten that. I never did get to read it, it was Ron's birthday present."

"Let me get this quite straight– he gave you a book on how to charm girls, then burst in on us and yelled at you for something I started?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Anyway, I had a look at it. I can see where Ron would find it useful, but you do okay on your own."

"Anything I'm too young to look at?"

"Nothing to corrupt you, no. But I should recognize the signs now if you really try to dump me."

"Wasn't planning on it. I like my bogies; I don't want bats up my nose instead. But to change the subject, there's Bill and I need to talk to him about Gringott's. I don't imagine they're happy with me."

Harry knew the goblins wouldn't steal his money, but couldn't imagine them not wanting an exorbitant fine at least. He explained to Bill what had happened Friday morning.

"Well, let's see. You offered the sword– no, Griphook demanded it, there's a difference. It was in your possession when Griphook took it as payment, but the Sorting Hat then gave it to Neville, so the Sorting Hat must have the power to Disapparate objects, no matter how well protected; fascinating, but beside the point. The main thing is, you promised the sword and Griphook took it, and other goblins saw that. Once that original bargain was done, he felt free to turn on you. You, in turn, released the dragon in order to escape death or capture.

"I'm not sure it will be relevant, but what were you after? It might make a difference."

Harry decided he had to trust someone with at least part of the truth sometime, and Bill was as trustworthy a person as he knew.

"We were after Hufflepuff's cup. Voldemort had given it to the Lestranges to keep in their vault. It was... enchanted, cursed. I'm not sure I should tell anyone else, but do you know what a horcrux is?"

"I know the concept; it occurs in Egyptian magic. It's putting your life or soul into a single body part or even an outside object and separating it from your body, so you live even if your body is killed. Sometime I'll tell you 'The Tale of the Two Brothers'...You mean Voldemort actually did it? That's how he survived all those years?"

"Yes. Hermione found a book telling how to do it-- the spell needs a murder to tear the soul apart, then the fragment is hidden outside the body. The cup was a horcrux. We needed the sword to destroy it but Griphook took it first."

"It was destroyed eventually, though, or Voldemort would still be alive."

"Ron and Hermione did it. They have a lot of basilisk fangs somewhere; he got into the Chamber of Secrets that night–"

"I thought that took a Parselmouth!"

"Almost. Ron remembered what I'd said in Parseltongue and repeated it."

Bill looked impressed. "Wow. So the job Dumbledore left you was to look for a horcrux? No, wait– you were still looking for something when we got to Hogwarts that night–"

Harry realized he'd put his foot into it. "There was more than one. The diary that possessed Ginny was one, and the reason Ron left us last winter was a cursed locket that affected him somehow more than me or Hermione. That snake of Voldemort's that bit your Dad was another, and he made two others, the ring that cursed Dumbledore's arm and Ravenclaw's diadem; he found that by getting the Gray Lady to tell him where it was and brought it back to Hogwarts as a horcrux, then hid it there."

"And all of those needed murders to finish the spell! What was it about Gryffindor's sword that could break them?"

"It was full of venom from when I killed the basilisk. That's why Ron went after the fangs. The only other thing we know of that works is Fiendfyre, and that took care of the diadem and everything else in that storeroom in the Room of Requirement. I don't know if they'll be able to open it at all anymore."

"I'll want the whole story, you know. So– Your bargain with Griphook was fulfilled, no matter how you felt about each other. To escape afterward, you released their dragon, while under attack. Had the cup been destroyed then and there, it need never have been stolen _per se_. And in the end destroying the cup meant that Voldemort was destroyed. The fact that the Sorting Hat took the sword back, in accordance with wizard law (if by means I don't understand), had nothing to do with you. I think Ron and Hermione won't have to come into this at all, and I think Griphook will confirm that this was your enterprise. Perhaps I should handle the whole thing though. Do you need money? Do you have your key? What do you think you'll need?"

"More than usual. Let me think... By the way, I want to do something really nice for your parents, especially your Mum. I put her through a lot last summer when she should have been concentrating on your wedding. I need to help Hermione find her parents too– and she was the only one who had any money all winter, I owe her that... I wonder how much is left...."

Eventually they agreed on an amount, in case it would not be prudent for Harry to appear personally at the bank. Hermione still had the cup in her bag, and Bill retrieved it before returning to Shell Cottage for the night; Mr. and Mrs. Delacour would be going home to France by Portkey the next day before Bill went to Diagon Alley.

Later Harry found himself in the Burrow sitting room, having a late cup of tea with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Since Ginny had come in and was sitting beside him, it occurred to him that he had an excuse to be a little nervous. But eventually, after he had told them what he had told George, the talk turned to the past nine months, which was a relief. He only had to remember not to tell them about Ron leaving, which was something for Ron to take care of himself.

He should have known better, he supposed. The talk died down for a moment, and Mrs. Weasley asked: "So. How long has this been going on? Don't pretend you don't know what I mean."

"Mum!"

"Oh, Molly...."

"About a year," said Harry calmly. "Since the Quidditch Cup match."

"And what happened?"

"I had to break it off. I knew I'd have to leave as soon as I came of age. Voldemort would have tried to use Ginny to get at me. That's why she didn't go back to Hogwarts after Easter, he would have used her against you too." He was surprised at himself; he felt neither angry nor flustered– perhaps because he sensed that Mrs. Weasley wasn't exactly angry either.

"Molly," interrupted Mr. Weasley, "are you really going to tell me that, after all these years, you don't approve of Harry?"

"That's not what I meant, Arthur, I just don't want to see Ginny hurt again, you remember how she was last summer–"

"Well, neither do I," said Mr. Weasley reasonably. "Neither does Harry. As for Ginny, don't you think she's old enough to go out with a boy? Her O.W.L.s were good enough last year, so they didn't interfere with her schoolwork, and she comes of age this summer." He looked at Ginny and Harry, shooing them away. "Go on. Time to get some sleep anyway, if you're all going to London tomorrow."

They went, nearly running into Hermione and Ron (and Crookshanks) who were trying to enter quietly from the garden. Ginny whispered "Fight" and herded them up the stairs. Once they were all in her room, she shut the door. "What's going on?" asked Ron.

"Mum ambushed Harry and me. Dad's taking care of it. She wasn't mad, just bossy. I think it'll be all right."

"What were you doing? Does she even realize you'd gone out with Michael and Dean before Harry?" asked Ron.

"We were all having tea together. I wasn't going to tell her about Michael or Dean; neither will you. By the time they're done, you and Harry have to be upstairs," she said. "I doubt she'll try it with you two. Does she even know about your parents, Hermione?"

"It hasn't come up yet. I'm sure your Dad does though."

"Don't remind her if you can help it, at least until after we're back at school, or Ron will get a taking- advantage- of- distressed- orphan- girl talk, as if you hadn't been camping out all winter. Anyway, you'd better go. Good night, see you in the morning." She practically shoved them both out and shut the door. Harry was sure he heard laughter through the closed door, suddenly muted.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and elements are the property, copyright and trademark of Warner Bros. and J. K. Rowling and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.


	3. Recovery

Author's Notes: This is the third part of a continuation after chapter 36 of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, for no good reason except that I wanted to read a little more. Not knowing the rating system very well, this is for anybody who could read _DH_. I probably won't change anything due to criticism, constructive or not, because this was written strictly for my pleasure. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Flattery will get you anywhere.

I certainly will depart from canon on some points, try as I might not to do so.

This has been revised to account for the discovery that the raid on Gringott's was to have been on Friday, May 1st. It now begins on the following Tuesday.

In any case, enjoy. (Disclaimer at the end.)

RECOVERY

Only five days ago Diagon Alley had been all but deserted save for beggars, a grim, sullen place compared to the cheerful bustle Harry had been used to. This morning, it was again silent and still, but bright decorations hung from walls and littered the street along with bottles. Tom the proprietor had looked exhausted and his bar had been empty, but in a very quiet voice he had insisted upon welcoming George back, and Bill, and saying how sorry he was about Fred. Then he had caught sight of Harry, who very shortly had wished for his Invisibility Cloak. He hoped his hand would regain its feeling. As they walked along they saw bottles, piles of ashes, half- burnt "Undesirable Number One" posters, more bottles, a few of Friday's wandless snoring in doorways. Apparently Diagon Alley was hung over and having a lie-in. Bill went on to Gringott's, saying he would send for Harry if he was needed, and the rest set to cleaning up Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes until the other shops should open. Harry wondered how many would be able to; he had forgotten to ask Ollivander yesterday about his plans.

George professed himself grateful that only the front room had been looted, saying that they had left only the most colorful and the worst- selling items in the showroom while packing up most of the back room and the really valuable stock, moving it to Muriel's; the Pygmy Puffs had been breeding well enough, he said, that they could resume selling them at once. The next few hours saw the jinxes removed, most of the damage cleaned up and the front windows fixed. Soon there was a tap on the door, and George let in two young women that Harry remembered from the funeral yesterday. Suddenly he recognized them; they were the shop assistants he'd seen the first time he'd been here, wearing magenta robes and calling the twins "Mr. Weasley." Just behind them was Lee Jordan. They all tackled the back room, restocking the front and returning to Muriel's for more.

In the midst of it all Bill walked in, asking for Harry, who excused himself. As they walked up the street Bill explained that the goblins weren't going to demand payment for the dragon or the damage it had caused, officially taking the view that the death of Voldemort was worth the trouble. Unofficially, Bill explained, they were waiting on the estates of those who had died at Hogwarts intestate, because there were hefty rental and cataloguing fees levied (with interest) on the vaults that did not pass indisputably and immediately to a new owner, and a transference fee even for those that did within the mandated thirty- one days. Nor were the goblins eager to appear disobliging to Harry Potter; and it was considered to Harry's credit that he had approached them, even through an intermediary, so promptly. Apparently many debtors tried to run, and Harry remembered Ludo Bagman.

Nonetheless he was appalled. "You mean they're letting me off because other people died that night?"

"No, not quite. Say rather that they are permitting you the benefit of their good fortune because you killed Voldemort, which gave them back control of the bank. Don't ever forget, Harry, that they really are not humans, and there is less common ground between us on some subjects than, say, with centaurs or merpeople."

"What about you and Fleur? Do you still have jobs?"

"Yes. It didn't hurt us either, letting me argue your case. I ought to mention, however, that it's also a good thing that Charlie does what he does. I think they're angling for a dragon egg out of this, or something just as fearsome. But whatever you do–"

"–don't tell Hagrid," they said together.

"Don't tell Hermione either," said Harry. "She won't approve of their training methods. I don't myself."

"It'd be in the hands of the International Committee anyway, not Charlie. If you or Hermione tell him about the dragon, though, he may see fit to report it.

"But to business. You will be in front of a committee, very like a jury, and you should be able to answer everything honestly. If you need help, just look at me and I'll answer. It's supposed to be just a formality since the case has already been already decided; they shouldn't spring anything new on you, but that's not a hard and fast rule."

The great doors showed a few dents, but had been reset on their hinges. When Harry asked, Bill said that since the damage had been purely physical and not magical, the goblins had been able to repair them fairly easily. Every head turned and stared as they entered the Atrium, likewise cleaned and restored, and at the far end a goblin nodded and walked quickly to the right behind the counters. Bill followed, leading the way to a room with a high ceiling and walls paneled in dark wood, as imposing in its way as the atrium. A dozen or so goblins sat behind a semicircular railing set so that they were just above eye level. Below the central seat the mangled cup of Helga Hufflepuff rested on a small stand. Harry was reminded of his hearing at the Ministry, for once again he was at the focus of the arrangement. Bill moved to his right, standing midway between the seated goblins and Harry. The doors closed with a sound like thunder. As their echo died away, the goblin in the center spoke.

"Mr. Harry Potter, as of this morning you stood accused by Gringott's Bank of breaking into its vaults, forcing an employee to open a high-security vault not in your name, stealing therefrom a treasure not belonging to you, and compromising the security of this institution by releasing the guardian dragon which then forced its way through the bank, causing damage to the main doors and hall.

"Mr. Weasley has related to us the entire story as he heard it from you, including the use to which the stolen object was put by the Dark Lord. He absolves your human accomplices of blame in the matter, and presents the object, now cleansed of its curse. He states that this curse was broken by your accomplices, which action was delayed by premature claim of the sword bargained to Griphook, and that breaking the curse was indisputably necessary to the defeat of the Dark Lord.

"Griphook has related to us his story, of his rescue from the dark wizards and the terms of his bargain with you. We do not find any discrepancy.

"Likewise we find no discrepancy in the testimony of Bogrod, employed by this institution, nor of Tom, of the Leaky Cauldron. We have been unable to confirm this testimony with Travers, a customer of this institution.

"Mr. Weasley has stated that you do not deny these actions. Is that correct?"

"Yes-- er, that is correct." Even with Bill's assurances Harry was sweating.

"Yet despite these actions you sent an intermediary to negotiate terms. This also is correct?"

"Yes."

"You are aware that the item received by Griphook as payment for his services is no longer in his possession?"

"Yes." He glanced at Bill, who looked a little nervous.

"Do you know how that came to be?"

"I saw what happened, but I don't know how it was done. It came from the Hogwarts Sorting Hat when someone else really needed a weapon. Without it we couldn't have defeated Voldemort," he said. "That happened to me once, five years ago."

The goblin in the middle was silent, although whispers came from the others. After a moment they stopped and looked at the middle goblin, who looked back at his fellows on each side.

"Very well; we will accept that you did not renege on your bargain. The final verdict of this case is therefore: that the damages to this bank are weighed against the fact that your actions were necessary for the destruction of Voldemort, which in turn was necessary for the control of this bank to be returned to its rightful owners. We will set the one against the other, and no gold, silver, bronze or other treasure will change hands over this matter, now or in future, by you or your accomplices, or your heirs, or this bank or any goblin or employee thereof. It will be so reported to all of our branches and to your Ministry of Magic. Do you have any questions?"

"Well, one," said Harry. "Was the cup goblin- made?"

"No." The tone implied that it was therefore inferior.

"What happens to it, since the Lestranges are dead?"

"The vault and its hoard, including the cup, were bequeathed to an unrelated heir, now also deceased and without issue. It will therefore pass to the next heir of the Lestranges' bloodline. If, when that heir is legally confirmed, he or she wishes for any recompense, that will be a purely wizarding matter."

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure he liked the smile on the goblin's face when he said that. It looked as if the goblin would have liked to see a duel.

Some time later Harry returned to the joke shop, his pockets and pouch full of both gold and Muggle money. He pulled Ron and Hermione aside and recounted the story to them, realizing that it had been worrying them too.

"So, how far are we? It's noon, and a lot of places are saying they'll be open this afternoon. We'll be able to do our shopping."

"Nearly there," said George, who tried to look as if he hadn't listened to a word. "In fact lunch sounds good. We can all go before we reopen. We don't have open the back room today. If any place is serving it's on the shop."

After lunch they first went to a more- than- usually disorganized Flourish and Blott's, then the stationer and apothecary and cauldron shop, where Harry replaced the cauldron left at Privet Drive, which had been damaged by the vandals. Leaving the heavy load at the joke shop, Harry retrieved his Firebolt and went up the street with Ginny. The crowds had been thickening all day and many people were, to no one's surprise, staring at Harry. It was almost a relief to have the occasional stranger bold enough to greet him. It was definitely a relief to duck into Quality Quidditch Supplies. The boy tending the counter didn't even notice Harry when he saw the broomstick; his expression was close to tears at the ruin, but he disappeared and came back a moment later with the manager, who took one look at Harry and sent the boy out of the door at speed before turning to them.

"If you will bear with us, Mr. Potter, I've sent him after a salesmen who just now left for lunch."

"Actually I was going to ask about reconditioning--"

"He'll be able to talk to you about that, he represents the Firebolt's manufacturers. But I'm sorry to say it doesn't look good for this broom-- there's water and vermin damage as well as a hit from a spell, that's what cracked the handle-- May I ask what happened...? A sad waste. You're the second customer today with a good broom that had to be hidden and was spoiled, and we just re-opened. I'm afraid we're in for a depressing week. But," and his manner became all business, "I will tell you something frankly, Mr. Potter. You evidently do not realize that this broom is more valuable now, as it is, than it was when new. There will be many, many people interested in owning or even just seeing it, because it is yours. I believe you rode it when you defeated the dragon in the Triwizard Tournament, as well as for Gryffindor? Yes. I don't expect you to like your situation entirely, but I encourage you to use it. Defeating You- Know- Who was the greatest deed any wizard could have done, but there's no cash reward involved and you're still school- age, so any gold you've got you'll need over the coming years.

"What I am thinking you can arrange is a trade. Any manufacturer, including the Firebolt's, will gladly give or lease you their best model in exchange for the right to display this one. No matter which company you might deal with, this would have a good home, and you might not even need to relinquish ownership. What the salesmen won't tell you is that right now they are desperate to sell. British Quidditch was reduced to five combined teams over the winter due to the Ministry's blood prejudice; many of the fliers are Muggle- born or half- blood, and left the country. Amateur leagues were banned outright by the Ministry and you know what happened at Hogwarts." Harry nodded. "So take a few moments, wander around and collect your thoughts. If you wish to trade, they all have enormous stocks. Today would be a good day to try. But this one will never be a racing broom again-- the cushion charm is totally faded and there's no levitation response."

"If I may ask, Mr. Flyte, what do you get out of it?" asked Ginny sweetly, who had overheard despite wandering around the showroom.

"Me? Business, young lady," said the manager. "If I'm lucky I'll get to display this first. That window is the best place in the country to display anything," he said without a trace of modesty. "Now that the Death Eaters are gone, Diagon Alley will be full of people buying only what they need-- no one's got much gold now-- but they will all be looking, and most of them look here, even ones that don't fly. I think they'd rather look at this and read what Mr. Potter says about it than look at a top- of- the- line model they'll never be able to afford, for a sport that may take another year and more to revive."

"I'll think about it." Harry did so as they moved back among the colorful team robes towards the professional league souvenirs. He sighed. "There's going to be a lot of this, isn't there?"

"Probably. You'll lose your reputation for humility, if nothing else," said Ginny. "But you shouldn't give up flying and Quidditch for want of a good broom, and you've had the best. Like he said, too, no matter how much you've got, it's not a good idea to spend it all right away. And I've never heard any complaints about Mr. Flyte; he's been here for ages, Charlie used to come in here all the time to visit, and I know he's a good friend of Madame Hooch-- that's her picture behind the till, from about twenty years ago."

"I thought the Daily Prophet already did for my 'reputation for humility,'" he replied. "Now, the other side-- let's see-- I might be made into a flying advertisement, with some sort of obligation or penalty. I might end up with no control over the old one-- but I'd thought I'd lost it anyway; it's just that Sirius gave it to me."

"That's really the best argument for you buying a new one outright, you know. See what he says, though; he might think it's better if it stays yours. You can always say no."

The door chimed, but it was a dark- haired woman in green, not the boy with the salesman. Harry thought. It sounded good, but he rather wished Hermione or George or Bill, or all three, would walk in and give him some advice too. He nearly asked Ginny if she could go find one of them, but then the salesman did come through the door and Harry decided to try.

The Firebolt was still on the counter, and the woman in green was looking it over and shaking her head as they approached. Ginny suddenly grabbed Harry's hand, staring at her. Just then Mr. Flyte started introductions: Mr. Plantagenet the salesman, Mr. Harry Potter, Miss Gwenog Jones, and--?

"Miss Weasley, I believe," interrupted the woman in green. "Gryffindor Chaser until the final Cup match last year, when Mr. Potter"-- she acknowledged him with a nod-- "was unable to fly and Miss Weasley substituted as Seeker, winning the game and the cup for Gryffindor." The lady was short, with mostly- black hair and dark eyes in a very battered Welsh face, and Harry suddenly knew where he had seen her. Once had been in Professor Slughorn's photo collection; the other had been last night, on Ginny's wall.

"Now Gwen, you know the rules: no recruiting Hogwarts students until after N.E.W.T.s!"

"Won't need to this year, once we get everybody back. They've all sent owls, they're coming. And this is not Hogwarts, although I don't expect Dumbledore's rules to change under McGonagall," said Gwenog Jones. "But if they start up next fall I'm trying to get to most of the matches again. I expect some reserve positions to open up in a year or two. But to business-- I've a bag full of old Snitches to trade in, and we never heard about that batch of robes last fall, or Rhiannon's Nimbus..."

"The robes will be here Thursday, the seamstress had to hide her entire business last August and just got back from Holland yesterday, but she sent us an owl already. The broom has been ready in the shop, but neither of our owls ever returned. Martin's just finished all the Snitches we had on hand and will be very pleased to have yours. Sawyer, could you take Miss Jones back, please?" Harry had seen a notice on the front of the counter about Snitch respelling, but now was not the time to ask.

They got down to business. Ginny was still gripping Harry's hand, by which he understood that she had her mind on the captain of the Holyhead Harpies; but Mr. Plantagenet immediately proposed almost exactly what the manager had. At the end of half an hour, Harry was the somewhat bemused owner of two Firebolts, one ruined and one new, sent directly from the factory via Floo messenger. There was a slight improvement in performance, especially acceleration, the salesman had explained; but the big change was that the cushioning charm had been reshaped. Harry mounted it in the rear courtyard given over to trials and lessons, kicked off and hovered. The new seat felt somewhat more secure as well as more comfortable than his old one, but didn't interfere with mounting or maneuvering. Then the manager whirled his wand, saying "_Vortex relativo_" and telling Harry to go ahead and fly; to his vast surprise and delight, he could fly in a sort of treadmill as his broom remained tethered over one spot.

"This Firebolt was given to me by Sirius Black, my godfather, after my first broom had been destroyed. As Gryffindor Seeker, I used it through three seasons of Quidditch, contributing to two Quidditch Cups for Gryffindor, and I flew it against a Hungarian Horntail in the Triwizard Tournament resulting in a tie for first place for that task. It was damaged beyond repair in the events surrounding the fall of the Ministry of Magic to the Death Eaters, and was returned to me in its present state shortly after the battle at Hogwarts. Harry Potter"

Both Mr. Plantagenet and Mr. Flyte pronounced themselves satisfied. At Harry's insistence a hundred Galleons, a small part of the broom's value, changed hands to seal the bargain; and in addition Harry bought a carrying case that he thought would still fit into his trunk.

As they left Ginny fell silent and thoughtful; Harry recognized the symptoms-- they had been turned on him for a long time.

"I hope you're planning on trying out next fall. She was really interested in you."

"Harry, don't make fun of me. Not over that."

"I wasn't! You saw--"

"Harry, we both saw the World Cup. There's just no way I'm good enough to play professionally."

"Why not? Oliver is, but he'll probably never be Keeper for England. And she seemed to think you do well in both positions. Did you ever think of anything else you really want to do?"

Ginny was quiet again. Harry had wished to be an Auror, but wouldn't be sure for months-- if not a year or more-- if his marks were good enough. Ginny had never seemed enthusiastic about any future that didn't involve flying, now that he thought about it.

"Look, whatever you do, don't let her put you off. You love Quidditch too much to give it up just because someone's watching. We never let Ron quit, and that was his problem."

She smiled at that and changed the subject. "If you're still at school, are you going to be Captain next year?"

"No idea. I won't argue if McGonagall wants me to, I'd like to do it again. No, wait, it won't be McGonagall, will it? I wonder who's going to be Head of Gryffindor now? And for that matter, who'll teach Transfiguration?"

When they got back to the joke shop, the purple and gold sign outside had changed to read WEASLEY AND JORDAN'S WIZARDING WHEEZES. They hesitated for a second, and it changed to WIZARD WHEEZES, JOKES AND JAPES, Weasley and Jordan, Perpetrators.

"Well, they've noticed! Maybe we should ask them," said George, from across the street.

"I don't feel right about it. Not yet, anyway. Tell you what-- leave it the way it was, and we can think about it later, after New Year's, maybe. I mean, you've got Ron too, and if you ever do buy Zonko's you'll need a manager," said Lee.

"So you'll be staying? Excellent!" said Ginny, shaking Lee's hand.

"Yes, well, I was working for my uncle until last August," he said, "but the Death Eaters trashed the radio station and I had to run for it--"

"So then you started _Potterwatch_! Maybe we ought to have you do an autograph session--"

"Huh? Why?"

"Wait 'til you hear what they did for Harry--"

"Yeah, but he's Harry--"

"Shut up and listen."

Harry had thought Ollivander's was still closed, but when they accompanied Ron and Hermione to look, the door and windows had been un- boarded. There was a customer inside: a woman, protesting even as the tape measure was winding itself happily around her shabby hat; and Mr. Ollivander, coming out of the stacks with half a dozen boxes. They watched from the window as he pondered, finally opening one and gently extracting a wand, handing it to the woman, watching sparks fly out; they saw Ollivander say something. The witch removed her hat, pointed the wand at it; spoke; it shook itself and was clean once more, invisibly mended. In a few seconds she came out, dabbing at her eyes but smiling. They went in.

Ollivander greeted them, happier than Harry ever remembered seeing him. Harry had decided to tell him about the Elder Wand, though not its fate; at the end Ollivander merely sighed, and then asked if he might see Harry's own wand. He looked it over for several minutes, then handed it back. "As good as new. I will always regret the loss of the Elder Wand to the wizarding world, no doubt, but I would therefore have proven the wrong master. There is so very much it could repair and restore, but also much harm to be done. Someone would think to take it for himself and the story would begin again. I have no wish to see it repeated."

They left shortly, as the witch with the new wand led a man in filthy, ragged robes inside. Ollivander greeted him by name, pulling out the tape measure again.

There were other things to be discussed over tea in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. The Weasley offspring, like Harry, were determined to do something nice for their parents; Hermione went so far as to suggest taking them with her to Australia, but Bill wisely pointed out that that would be difficult enough without shepherding Arthur through a Muggle airport. Also, Kingsley would certainly need him back tomorrow; Percy had been working heroically, it seemed, and Bill thought it was how he was dealing with Fred's death, but Kingsley needed more people he could trust. It might well be autumn before they could spare any time at all. Nothing was decided; they went back to work and shopping, thinking about it. Ron decided to get some owl nuts for Pig. Harry went in to Eeylops with him, thinking sadly of Hedwig and wondering if he should get himself a new owl.

"Hey, Ron-- your parents still just have Errol, don't they?"

"Yeah, but they never use him anymore. Never got a new one, they just used Pig all winter, and... Oh, yeah, that's an idea!"

"Help me pick one out. And no, get your own idea, I really do owe them. But you can help me with the message."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went back to the Burrow by Floo Network. Shortly after, a great gray owl flew onto the kitchen windowsill and waited for Molly to untie the message from its leg. She read the note, looked uncertainly at the owl and gave the paper to Arthur, who laughed for the first time all week.

"Housewarming present! He's a beauty, too! Harry, that's your writing!"

"Good thing we didn't listen to George," put in Ron. "He wanted Harry to write 'Forever yours, dear Molly' and send a rose."

"So what are you going to name him?" said Harry, grinning as Mrs. Weasley hugged him.

"That will require thought. Just look at him-- he'll be able to fly straight to Romania!"

After supper Ron and Ginny hiked to the paddock with Harry to take cautious turns on the new Firebolt. George and then Percy came in after sunset, tired and still quieter than usual; it occurred to Harry that it might be a long time before George wanted to stay in the flat over the joke shop again.

Harry realized it had been a long while since he had spoken with Hermione, and that with only a month until end of term, she would have to start planning her search for her parents on top of preparing for N.E.W.T.s. He had had an idea, but wasn't sure if it would be practical. He found her outside with Crookshanks.

"Do you know yet how you'll find your parents?" he asked.

"No, not really. I need to start looking. I was wondering if I could get to a library and start with the Internet. But I may not have enough money to fly there any more," she said, her voice cracking.

"Don't worry about that, Hermione. We can get you there and bring you all back. I've got loads, more than enough for that."

"But Harry...!

"No buts. You've never seen inside my vault, have you? And I've got Sirius' stuff on top of what Mum and Dad left. So no argument. But I was wondering if we should ask Mr. Weasley if it's possible to use Portkeys. I know that's what they used to get everybody to England for the World Cup."

"I'd wondered if I could arrange one-- it could save days-- but I don't know, it might need to be an emergency or something. Things won't settle down here for a long time."

"We still might ask Mr. Weasley. I mean, we don't have credit cards or passports or driver's licenses, I'm still underage for a Muggle--"

Hermione was smiling now. "Speak for yourself. I've had a passport for years. I don't have a credit card yet, though."

"Well, we could always try broomsticks--"

"No way, Harry!"

"...or dragons, or thestrals, or hippogriffs-- "

"Now you're making a cruise sound good. But that would take forever."

"So let's talk to Mr. Weasley before he goes to bed."

Mr. Weasley was not hopeful, as Harry had expected. The current wave of Portkeys had been intended to deal with the emergency at Hogwarts, and it would not be legal to try one by the end of term without Ministry approval, unless Kingsley dropped the severe restrictions put in place by Fudge and Scrimgeour.

On the other hand, he felt very strongly that if any individual in the country had the right to expect such help from the Ministry, it was Hermione. And if Harry was involved, so much the better; Harry thought he had put it tactfully. He ended by saying that he couldn't be sure when, but he would find the opportunity to take it up with the Office of Magical Transport or, better yet, Kingsley himself.

"One other thing. I would dearly love come along, but I'm sure I won't have the time. Unless you actually locate them from here, I wouldn't recommend taking anyone but Harry, who knows about Muggles. And I certainly wouldn't go alone. It won't be a vacation. I don't expect Ron or Ginny to take it too well, or Molly either."

"We'll tell them," said Hermione.

Harry did tell Ron as they were changing for bed, but the plans were too indefinite yet for Ron to object. He did agree that Portkeys would be better than anything else, as Hermione didn't like to fly except in a jet ("Can't see it myself-- how can those things stay up, anyway? Broomsticks are loads safer...") He didn't like the idea of not going along but approved of Harry accompanying her. Harry was relieved; Ron seemed to have outgrown his jealousy entirely.

He wished he could have said the same thing about himself and his nightmares. For the first time since Voldemort's death, he had a bad night. Something was missing, he was alone; and though his wand rose and fell time after time, clanging like a bell, he could not protect his friends or his family. Their faces drifted frantically in and out of view until he could not distinguish among who had lived and who had died.... At least twice he woke, his eyes snapping open in the darkness to hear the ghoul rattling the pipes. Finally, well after midnight, his thoughts settled and he slept. At least his scar didn't hurt. Maybe he was missing the pain that had been with him all these years.

"I couldn't sleep either, these last two nights," confessed a bleary- eyed Ron on Wednesday morning. "I think I dreamed about Fred. Why now, and not days ago?"

"I remember reading something about it once," said Hermione. "It happens like this sometimes. I think we've all been in shock since Voldemort was killed, and things are going to start catching up with us over the next few days. It won't be easy but it has to happen sometime, and better now than later. It's not just the funeral-- it's having been through the battle, too."

"Where'd you find something like that?"

"A magazine in Dad's waiting room." She helped herself to more toast. "So what's to do today, as it's raining? Does George need us? Or is there something we can help you with here, Mrs. Weasley?"

"George hasn't said," said Ginny. "I might go with him for a few hours and help with the back room, if he needs."

"Let's see what he says first," said Molly. "There's always plenty to do here but the Burrow doesn't have customers like the shop does, so I'll let him have first dibs on your services."

"He'll be down shortly," said Mr. Weasley, sitting down and serving himself a large portion of a potato dish left by a neighbor. Percy followed suit. He also sported dark circles under his eyes, magnified by his horn rims, although he had looked tired every time Harry had seen him since the battle.

"Well, most of our people should be back at the Ministry today," Percy said. "Maybe things will slow down a little. I don't expect to be back to normal tomorrow, but perhaps we won't need to be there so late."

"Hope not," said Arthur, "at least not for you. You've been working hard, don't forget you need rest too."

"I'll be fine...."

"I know you will," said Arthur, "but still try not to overdo it. There's no shame in knocking off a few hours early at this point if you have to. As you say, everyone should be back by now."

George finally came down, bathed but tired like the rest of them, and helped himself to the last of the potatoes and sausages. "What's everybody doing today?"

In the end, George persuaded Molly to come to Diagon Alley as well; Harry was kicking himself for not thinking of it before, as she would have been alone all day otherwise. Charlie was to meet them for lunch before heading back to Romania, and Bill and Fleur were back at work.

Shoppers were already in evidence as they emerged from the Leaky Cauldron's yard, although it was not quite eight o'clock. Harry was once again the center of attention as they made their way to Number Ninety- three. He was glad to escape to the back room, clearing out boxes from yesterday, cleaning and restocking displays with the rest of them. Ginny and Hermione dragged Molly off to window- shop when the rain stopped. There was a steady business that morning, many customers buying small items for a few knuts or sickles, and most craning for a look at Harry in the back room. Harry began to wonder as he worked: why was it not bothering him any more? It wasn't like he was the hero they thought he was.

Maybe not, he thought; but remember what you told Ron, stuff like you did only sounds cool. They don't know how terrifying it really is.

But some of them do know by now, and still they think I did something-- greater-- than what happened. I might have been wrong, and then I'd never have been able to beat Voldemort. I'd be dead.

But I wasn't wrong. I spent all winter figuring it out and I was right. And Voldemort's dead.

At that point he had to sit down, shaking badly. When he could breathe and stand again, after long moments, he carefully went back to work, willing his legs to hold him up and trying not to drop anything. It really wasn't that he was afraid of dying, not then and not now. But failure would have been disastrous for all those people trying to catch a glimpse of him, not to mention the Weasleys and Hogwarts and the Order and the rest of the Wizarding world.... So he had, finally, done something to merit the attention. He didn't like it much, but he now felt as if he could never be angry about it again. The fury, the hot temper, seemed to belong to another Harry, whose head could explode in pain at any moment and who didn't know why things happened to him or how to deal with them; a boy sharing his soul with a piece of Voldemort.

In short, now that he thought about it, he felt good for the first time: not always happy, but sound and whole. He could have his own life, his own future. Unfortunately, it would include a lot of people looking at him, strangers introducing themselves, and probably Rita Skeeter writing a very unauthorized and scandalous biography. He would have to deal with that; but there would be good things too.

George entered with a closed basket. He set it down carefully and opened it, inspecting the last litter of Pygmy Puffs ready to leave their mother. Harry put out a finger, smiling as a couple of tongues wrapped around it and laughing as George said he had to buy them now but could use credit. It was the final load from Muriel's; George inspected the back room thoroughly, pronounced it ready, and removed the curtain that didn't quite cover the doorway between the rooms. They left the shop in the care of Lee and the assistants as the rest of the family showed up for lunch.

Mrs. Weasley had reserved tables at a cafe. The food was neither plentiful nor of the best, but with all that had happened that week none of them were particularly critical; the rest of Diagon Alley would be no better until things returned to normal. Mrs. Weasley had Harry take a corner seat away from the windows and they spent a pleasant hour or so, especially when Bill, Fleur, and Percy were able to join them for a while. Arthur stopped by only briefly as they prepared to leave; he gave Harry a folded paper, telling him to read it and to keep his eyes open for trouble.

"Why? What's going on?"

"It's a press release from the Ministry," Mr. Weasley said. "I don't know if you've been following the Prophet, but there's been problems here and there rounding up Death Eaters over the last few days, and a very bad incident this morning. I'd suggest sticking close to everybody and not spending much more time in Diagon Alley this afternoon. There are Aurors here, but there are also a lot of other people and you'll attract crowds."

"Yeah, I'd noticed...."

"Use your cloak if you've got it. Oh, and Kingsley says two things. Firstly, would Mr. Harry Potter graciously consent to give an account of his doings since August so the Ministry has something to say when faced with a free press, and to please hurry up about it because the free press is nosing about in the person of Rita Skeeter. He suggests a sturdy dictation quill and letting Hermione edit the result. The second thing-- Hermione? Oh, there you are-- is that Kingsley will do all he can to arrange Portkeys through the Australian Ministry of Magic sometime during July, but to expect a round of dinners and appearances. They're to help you look for your parents, too, if you'll give me their new names."

He left them soon afterward, Harry facing the prospect of what amounted to homework, and Hermione beaming with relief.

There wasn't a lot more to do. Harry did as Kingsley had suggested and found self- propelling quills at the stationers', then followed Mrs. Weasley's suggestions about gifts for Teddy and Andromeda Tonks; he intended to visit the next day. Once back at the joke shop, he read the press release aloud to the others. The gist of it was that Death Eaters were still known to be loose, and they were to be regarded as very dangerous following an incident in Upper Flagley only a few hours before. Two masked Death Eaters had attacked a large gathering at a funeral. Effectively they had committed suicide, but it was due only to the quick response of several witches and wizards on the edge of the crowd that no one else had been killed.

The mood grew somber at that. Once word got out, and the press release was for that afternoon's Prophet, some other distraught follower of Voldemort might well decide to go out in a blaze of glory, and Harry's presence in a crowded Diagon Alley was surely a great temptation. He raised no objection when the others decided to go back to the Burrow. It had begun to rain again, and he thought he might get started on the story everyone wanted of him.

He did not have to face a blank roll of parchment alone, as it happened. As soon as they were back, Ron suggested they commandeer the sitting room while Hermione ran upstairs to collect ink and more quills. It was much easier to sit with them, remembering what happened and making notes, then letting Hermione manage the dictation; it was, to Harry's relief, nothing like having a Quick- Quotes Quill mangling their words. They started with the flight from Privet Drive. After a few hours both Ginny and Molly gave up pretending to be busy elsewhere and brought plates of warmed- over casserole into the sitting room for all of them. George, Percy and Arthur came in afterwards, likewise provided, sat down to eat and stayed to listen. They did not stop until nearly eleven o'clock, when the quill began to write down their yawns; by then they were well into spring, having glossed over the many weeks in which they had done little but move camp. Hermione flopped back, eyes closed, stretching; she had kept a quill writing for nearly eight hours. She gave her opinion that another such session should be sufficient. Then she organized the sheets, tapping each with her wand and saying "_Gemino_," and handing Arthur a copy to take to Kingsley the next day, "to get him started."

Harry thought the next morning that sorting out his memories might have helped, because the only dream he remembered had something to do with a problem for which he had the answer.

He remembered to write Mrs. Figg, borrowing the new owl to send the letter after lunch, and likewise borrowing Pigwidgeon to deliver a note to Mrs. Tonks. Pig returned first with her scribbled response, and Harry Disapparated from the Burrow.

He had barely had time to look at the Tonks household on his previous visit, but he was not surprised to see that things were a little disorganized. Although Andromeda Tonks had only raised one child, she obviously remembered how. Harry was amused to see a howling Teddy on a blanket placed on the living room carpet, but his screams were silent.

"His bottle's coming," said Andromeda. "Never try to raise a baby without a Muffliato charm. Ted was so tickled to find that one."

They talked as Teddy ate, Harry pulling out the things he had found in Diagon Alley-- a colorful mobile with Quidditch balls and players in bright yellow robes, and self- cleaning diapers. Harry felt bound to ask what Andromeda's situation was, so recently widowed and now raising a baby; he was glad to learn that they were not without family-- Ted's sister and nieces were close and were helping regularly, despite adjusting to a magical household-- and she indicated that the money would stretch until Teddy was old enough that she could go back to work. They talked for a while longer, about Tonks and Lupin, and about what he and Ron and Hermione had heard on the riverbank all those months ago.

Harry was thoughtful at dinner. There were two months of summer break at least, if he had to re- take any subjects next year, and he would be spending time in Australia and probably at Grimmauld Place as well as the Burrow, but he must spend time with Teddy as well. If nothing else Mrs. Tonks would need help around her house; perhaps he could bring Ron and the others now and again.

The next evening ended with a rough outline of the events at Malfoy Manor, at Gringott's and the battle at Hogwarts, none of which was set in a final form. Saturday would be busy, for they had to pack and help around the house, as well as finish writing. All of them agreed that it had to be done before boarding the train, or Kingsley would have to wait another month and more until the end of the term.

To their surprise, enough was completed by midafternoon Saturday that Hermione made copies for all of them and the Minister, and said that anything else they remembered could be added later. They all turned to packing; Harry's rucksack was done quickly, as was Ginny's bag, and they turned to helping Ron and Hermione. By teatime, they were done and Molly had sent them outside to try to bring some order to the weed-choked garden, a task nowhere near done by the time Mr. Weasley and Percy came up the walk, followed by George, and Molly called them in to dinner.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and elements are the property, copyright and trademark of Warner Bros. and J. K. Rowling and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.


	4. Resumption

Author's Notes: This is the fourth part of a continuation after chapter 36 of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, for no good reason except that I wanted to read a little more. Not knowing the rating system very well, this is for anybody who could read _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. I probably won't change anything due to criticism, constructive or not, because this was written strictly for my pleasure. Flames will be used to light the burnbarrel. Flattery may end up on my resume.

Author's Notes for previous chapters: The description of Voldemort's wand is from a picture of the official licensed reproduction from the insert in the _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire _DVD. "The Tale of the Two Brothers" is quoted in _The Curse of the Pharaohs _by Elizabeth Peters; I recommend starting at the beginning of the "Amelia Peabody" mysteries, personally. I also refer the reader to the original story of the Stravinsky ballet _The Firebird_ for another Horcrux- type plot device.

Re- spelling used Snitches is my idea; the process would remove or mask the flesh- memory charm referred to in Book 7 and recharge the equivalent of the batteries. They'd be good for practices afterward, although needing recharged often. Most Snitches would be recycled this way, except for the odd ones saved for sentimental reasons. It also takes care of the discontinuity in the first movie, where Harry handles a Snitch with his bare hands. In the first book he trained with golf balls.

In Book 5 it says that Auror Training requires a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s.

This part is where extrapolation really begins, and where characters of my invention must enter. I do not apologize for describing Quidditch-- any other sport I know would spend more words-- or for delving into Magical Theory.

In any case, enjoy. (Disclaimer at the end.)

Resumption

"I must ask something of all of you. Please set down everything you can remember about the events of this past school year. I believe strongly that such information will prove the best defense we have against such as Grindelwald and Voldemort. I was barely out of school when Grindelwald was defeated; I remember the fear, and the rejoicing when he was imprisoned, although it happened so far away. The wizarding community thought that that was the end of such evil in their lifetime, even as the next dark wizard was already here at school and planning his own rise to power.

"But now, let the feast begin."

It sounded strange, hearing the words in Professor McGonagall's voice, but the food was just as good as ever. The company was different, though. It was good to be able to sit with Luna and the others from the DA as well as Gryffindors, but it was only the latest anomaly of the day.

Harry had not really been surprised to learn that the Ministry was lending cars to the Weasleys again. In a departure from tradition they were slightly early for the train, and he noticed several alert wizards with serious expressions both in the station and standing on the platform. Harry sensed the relief of the others when the train pulled out of the station and they were on their way to Hogwarts once again.

They had a compartment to themselves, except for the waves of visitors. Ron and Hermione found themselves patrolling as prefects, which was not a major task since the train was not as full as normal. When they returned, they were full of speculations. Of those absent from the Hogwarts Express, Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle were the most noticeable. Eventually, though, the conversation turned to N.E.W.T.s. Hermione, as usual, had been considering. She announced her intention of concentrating on two or three subjects for N.E.W.T.s, leaving the rest for next year; she would decide which ones for certain after a week or so of classes.

"Charms, I'd think," suggested Harry. "And you know more about Defense Against the Dark Arts than I do, really--"

"We've had this conversation before--"

"You do, though. You planned our defenses all that time we had to camp out, and you were the one who found out about Horcruxes and everything."

"Will you be taking it?"

Harry grinned, thinking of what Ginny had said a week ago. "I'm not sure. I might pass but, well, I couldn't be sure it was honest, if that makes any sense. There's too much I know I don't know. By next year maybe the furor will have died down. But I don't know what I should take yet. Maybe you should, though, Ron."

"Dunno yet. I think I'll wait a few days too. I know I shouldn't try Potions or Herbology yet. And I doubt I'll be able to do Transfiguration."

Harry found his thoughts wandering that afternoon. It was a pleasant change, not having anything to worry about for the rest of the ride. He and Ginny spent their time catching up over Exploding Snap when Ron and Hermione were on duty, and Harry remembered the hour or so last evening that they had been able to spend together. Not that he begrudged George her company; of all her brothers, she had been closest to the twins.

He also remembered Viktor Crum and his fan club. It had been hard enough last year, getting any privacy. He wondered how effective his Disillusionment charms were, his cloak not being quite big enough for two anymore. Ginny had laughed at that.

Late that afternoon Demelza and Ritchie and Jimmy had tapped on the door to ask if Harry would be Quidditch Captain again next fall, and stayed to talk. Demelza, encouraged by the others, told them how she had spent the winter with friends of her parents in Brittany, finding _Potterwatch_ and generally feeling homesick until the wireless had put the word out about the battle. She had had to borrow a broom from her hosts, at night and without permission, and had spent freezing hours flying across the Channel and as far north as she could, finding Hogsmeade only by the good luck of seeing and following another broom until arriving just after dawn.

"My parents refused to register me, of course, so they sent me away. It wasn't too bad with the Richmonds; they're the ones who noticed I was a witch when I was little, and told Mum and Daddy all about it. They kept me at my schoolwork, so maybe finals won't be as dismal as I thought. But I spent the past week returning their broom and getting back the usual way," she explained. "I really caught it from my parents; of course; they had no way of keeping up with wizarding news, but fortunately the Ministry never really seemed to work out telephones or computers. That was an advantage to being Muggle- born. I was able to keep in touch pretty well. The Richmonds were a lot more understanding, I can tell you. They moved away the last time Voldemort was in power, despite Mr. Richmond being pureblood."

"Y'know, we just spent a lot of the week writing about what happened to us," said Harry, grinning. "You ought to put all that down before McGonagall makes it an assignment."

"I bet there's a lot of people had the same sort of stuff happen, though. Anyway, you're Harry Potter! Of course people want to know what you did!"

"Um... well, a lot of people will be astounded to find out how boring most of it was. There's so much more. We have to get Lee Jordan to tell us more about _Potterwatch_, just for one."

The carriages had been waiting for them all, but this time many of the staff had been waiting with them. Harry's suspicions were confirmed when their carriage was chosen by Professor Slughorn. As always they wound their way up the long drive from Hogsmeade; but instead of the occasional villager standing aside for the procession through a darkened lane, tonight the sun had not quite set and a crowd of residents had turned out to cheer, as if it were a parade. Harry did his best to smile and made no effort to hide his amazement, though it was no surprise that the cheering was loudest when he passed. He heard Slughorn sigh as they passed through the gates to the school grounds, and finally asked a question.

"Was this all just a precaution, or is there some threat we haven't heard about?"

To his credit, as Harry saw it, Slughorn did not try to dismiss or evade him. "Nothing specific, dear boy, no. But surely you've heard about Upper Flagley on Wednesday morning-- yes, I'm sure Arthur told you as soon as he heard. I must admit, we at Hogwarts had no idea that the village would be so demonstrative, but I'm very sure they were looking out for strangers in the midst of the festivities. But I see that the gates have closed. I'm afraid that most of the same defenses will be in place, though the dementors are gone, and good riddance."

A familiar guilty feeling assaulted Harry then. As he opened his mouth, Slughorn anticipated his question.

"Don't think that you are putting us in danger here, my boy. You will be a target to any would- be Dark wizard no matter where you are, and this is the best and safest place for you and your friends to be. In any case, the Ministry assures us that Death Eaters are being apprehended daily. It will take time for your celebrity to pass, but pass it will, and perhaps by next term it will have dwindled to little more than you were used to. You have never sought that sort of attention, as I recall, but you will not be able to avoid it entirely. And do not forget that Hogwarts itself, not to mention many of the students who fought, have earned their own enmity."

And now, in the conversation over dinner, there was more to consider. Professor McGonagall, as Headmistress, could no longer serve as head of Gryffindor. Harry had hoped briefly that Hagrid would be taking her place, but knew that he would not be willing to leave his groundskeeping duties and probably wouldn't fit in her old rooms anyway. Instead Professor Babblings, the Ancient Runes teacher, would be the new Head of House. Muggle Studies was canceled for the year as a class; as McGonagall put it, absolutely nothing taught that year had any value whatsoever. Final tests were canceled for Muggle Studies and Dark Arts. A wizard from Hogsmeade who turned out to be the father of two Ravenclaws in their first and fourth years would teach Transfiguration. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was an iron- haired ex- Auror from the Wizengamot who, they heard, had fled abroad over a year before, being sympathetic toward Muggle- borns. And Professor Slughorn, although he was still the Potions master, had stepped down as Head of Slytherin, yielding his place to Professor McIvor, the new Transfiguration teacher. He had given no reason, but everyone suspected that he felt thoroughly disgraced by his House's defection the week before. Harry overheard several older students telling the younger ones about seeing Slughorn fighting Voldemort himself, right alongside McGonagall and the new Minister.

The Common Room was filled that evening. Schedules for those who had missed the whole year had been handed out after dinner rather than at breakfast the next morning. Harry and the other seventh- years had staked out the couch by the fireplace, passing textbooks and notes around and listening to their classmates who had stayed at school, trying to get an idea of what would be expected of them in Charms and Transfiguration the next day. Later in the week would come Potions, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts; Hermione had a familiar tense look as she studied her Ancient Runes and Arithmancy texts. Harry was a little surprised at Neville, who offered to set aside time to help others with Herbology. Someone noted the similarity to Dumbledore's Army; everyone laughed when another voice suggested calling it Sprout's Garden; but no one declined the offer. Someone else asked Harry about the DA, but he wanted to see what the new teacher was like first. He felt it possible that the rest of the year would be devoted to reminding students that they couldn't use most of what Amycus Carrow had taught.

At breakfast the next morning, Harry was at first surprised to have three owls, then five, and at final count nearly two dozen letters from admirers; then he wondered at himself for forgetting the popular reaction to the _Quibbler_ article two years before. There was a great difference, though, in content; many of the letters were from battered survivors, in addition to the usual well- wishers and the odd offer of marriage. There were far fewer detractors. The others helped him open and read the mail; as they finished, Professor McGonagall herself collected Harry and the others, leading them to a damaged classroom not yet in use. There was a pile of full canvas sacks in the corner. She stated her intention of having the seventh- year Defense Against the Dark Arts classes examine the contents for curses, with Mr. Potter's permission, since it was all his mail.

Their first Charms session on Monday morning set the tone for the rest of their classes that week. Professor Flitwick welcomed them all, but instead of merely practicing some new charm, he asked those who had been away if they had learned any spells; Harry, Ron, and Hermione each replied with protective wards they had used all winter, and Dean earned points for remembering Ted Tonks' application of the Summoning charm for catching a salmon; "but only to be used so in an emergency!" reminded Flitwick. "Not the point of fishing at all, no!" Nearly a dozen unfamiliar spells, some of them quite obscure, came to light. Flitwick had them practice certain ones in class, briefly reviewed Cheering Charms, and for homework set them to practice two spells common to the N.E.W.T.s. Harry was surprised to find that they came easily to him.

The new Transfiguration teacher and head of Slytherin turned out to be as pleasant in his way as Lupin. By that time they had heard the McIvor boys' story of how he had been Sorted into Slytherin; with four sisters already scattered throughout the other three Houses, he had wanted to be anywhere else. He had stayed in Hogsmeade after leaving school, setting up shop as a handyman. Hermione anticipated an emphasis on practical applications.

Potions was much the same as before, except that Professor Slughorn seemed more subdued than last year. There was a list of a dozen potions or more, many of which had been assignments that year but were once again banned from student practice; Harry was amused to see "Polyjuice Potion" near the top.

Herbology was exactly as they had feared; the Carrows had not interfered with it at all, and they were hopelessly behind.

Best of all, there was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Madam Margherita Staines seemed to be cast in the same mold as Professor McGonagall. She had not assigned any new books for her classes, instead following Flitwick's example of finding out what her students knew and improving upon it. As they had foreseen, there was a certain concentration on Magical Law. Someone had told her about the DA; she set its members a brief essay on what they had learned and why it had been necessary (Hermione's failed to be brief) and by the end of the next week its members found themselves with "official student organization" status, charged with tutoring younger students. In the meantime, Harry's mail had been checked in class, and they had learned several new spells for detecting curses and jinxes. Harry was determined to use all of them for all of his mail after a letter burst into pink flames almost in Seamus' face.

Friday afternoon saw two new notices on the board: one for a meeting for sixth- and seventh- years late Saturday afternoon, and the other announcing that Madam Hooch would begin broomstick-riding lessons for the first years on Saturday morning. Although it was far too late in the year for organized Quidditch, she was inviting informal teams to apply for practice times with the possibility of a match or two in a few weeks. Harry, Ron, and Ginny quickly decided that it wouldn't be practical to spend all their time studying; Hermione rolled her eyes when they said she could bring a book along. Harry found himself surrounded at supper by the Gryffindor Quidditch team, minus a Chaser. Seamus and Dean both excused themselves, between study and healing injuries; McLaggen, like Katie Bell, had finished last year "so we can't use him for a target, even," said Jimmy. "Pity Stewart's in Ravenclaw, he wasn't bad, he just never got a chance to play...."

"But it doesn't say House teams...."

"That's right! Where is he?"

And so Harry was introduced to a tiny fifth- year Ravenclaw, Gordon Stewart, who seemed willing to overcome a terrible shyness in order to fly, even to the point of suggesting very diffidently that there was enough light left after dinner to get his broom and try out. Half an hour later Ginny and Demelza pronounced themselves satisfied and willing to present themselves as a full side; Ron was out of breath; and Harry thought he might have a second reserve Seeker. Stewart was mounted on his own Nimbus 1700, and was incredibly agile in the air; he seemed to have a gift of knowing where everyone and every ball would be. He explained that his parents had finally permitted him to try out the previous year, but he had been chosen only as a reserve player. He also said that he had grown several inches taller since.

They didn't feel ready to settle down to studying just yet, so Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hiked to the far side of the castle to find Hagrid at home, weeding the garden. It seemed that Kingsley had put another foot down, for Hagrid now had a new wand, a great oaken affair "jus' like the old one, except for the core," he said proudly. "Afraid my old umbrella bought it las' week. Decent man, the new Minister. Said that since I was cleared of settin' that basilisk loose, I shoulda been permitted a new wand five years ago, only Fudge and Scrimgeour an' that crew never got aroun' to it. Yeh'll want to wait 'til after your tests an' all now, but yeh all want to see the unicorn yearlings. Ginny here an' Luna got to be a dab hand wi' them, an' they even took to Neville."

It was just sunset when they reached the Common Room and started their homework. Harry was forming some ideas about N.E.W.T.s. He thought perhaps he could do well enough with Charms, as they had regularly used some of the spells they were to have learned anyway, and somehow he was finding new ones much easier to master now. Potions and Herbology would surely be hopeless. About Transfiguration he was simply uncertain.

Someone had mentioned Divination, and Ron made a joke about Professor Trelawney's skill with crystal balls.

Hermione snorted, but then said, "Actually, I'd like to ask Professor Firenze some questions. The centaurs seemed to have some ideas about all this; I'd like to know what they thought was happening."

"He's pretty good," said Ginny. "He was very roundabout, but the fifth- years said that they eventually figured out that the centaurs had predicted Voldemort's return and that it wouldn't last long. But aside from the war, they were puzzled about how it would end. He refused to say anything about you, which we took to mean he suspected something."

"I think," said Harry, "that I'd like to talk to him myself."

That was not an immediate concern, however. After half an hour or so watching the end of the flying lesson on Saturday morning, Harry's team and a crowd of hopefuls approached Madame Hooch about Quidditch practice, along with Professors McIvor and Babblings. Harry realized that they needed a crash course in Hogwarts Quidditch and would have to choose their Houses' Captains in a few months.

Somehow he was at the head of the line. Madame Hooch smiled as she took his name and those of his team, but asked them to stand off to one side. He had no idea why until he realized that there were two incomplete House teams from last year, and individuals and groups of students who wanted to play but had not formed teams. A thought struck him.

"Demelza," he asked, "are you thinking of sticking with Quidditch?"

"I hope so!"

"Well, listen," he said quietly, "you might want to trade to one of these groups. There's no Cup this year and they'll need another captain or two. It looks like six or seven teams here."

"Why me? I want to stay here, I can't lead a team. I've only had a year playing. Ginny or Ron could--"

"I think you all could." Harry tried to sound bracing. "But the thing is, we'll be going back to House teams next year. Ginny and Ron and I will all be gone after next spring. Ron and I might not even be back in the fall. Unless a lot of these older students are really good, you'll be the senior next summer, and you'll probably be picked as Captain. This might be a good opportunity to find some flyers."

"I'm not ready for this. If I try, we'll get flattened."

"I doubt it. Really. Look what's here-- there won't be a full slate of matches, I bet Madame Hooch is planning on having teams play each other according to how good they are. Let's see what happens."

Madam Hooch had everybody's name by then and was dividing them all according to how well they said they could fly. In a familiar ritual, she sent them flying around the pitch in groups. Twenty minutes later she had the ones who could fly well enough sorted into five teams not counting Harry's. There was a team of Slytherins, two that included the remains of last year's Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw House teams, and two others with mostly younger pupils of mixed Houses. As Harry had foreseen, neither of those had experienced players willing to lead them. Demelza sighed and volunteered when Madame Hooch asked, as did a Hufflepuff sixth- year. When the final shuffle was done, a fourth- year Hufflepuff girl was introduced as Edna Thurlstone. She had been in classes with Coote and Peakes but they didn't know her well, and she was obviously in awe of Ron and Ginny and especially Harry. But she could fly well enough and catch a ball. They invited her to sit at lunch with them, but had a hard time getting a word out of her. Harry wondered if it would work. They were slated for one evening and one early morning a week in the Quidditch pitch, with matches to be played in two weeks. With the DA members engaged in tutoring, Harry's schedule was becoming surprisingly full.

After lunch a note from the Headmistress directed them to a large classroom. When Ron opened the door they were surprised to see the Minister of Magic seated with Professor McGonagall, setting down a cup of tea. He rose and greeted them cordially, smiling and asking how they all were, and thanking them for the report they had sent him.

"I'm here at Professor McGonagall's invitation," he said. "Without betraying any confidence, she suggested that I might want to discuss your plans for careers after Hogwarts. I hope that means that you want to try for jobs in the Ministry. To be blunt, we have openings." They had to smile at that. "Now. What were you three considering when you chose your N.E.W.T. subjects? Harry?"

"I wanted to try for Auror training. I think we all did, two years ago."

"I hope that might still be the case. What about you, Ron?"

"I'm not sure anymore," said Ron slowly. Harry and Hermione looked at him, surprised. "I mean, yes, I'd like to, but I might need to put it off for a few years. George wants me to help in the shop over the holidays, and if business picks up to where it was last summer, he'll need more than just Lee Jordan and the help there. It was growing pretty fast."

"I remember that the Ministry ordered a lot of their anti- jinx hats and cloaks," said Kingsley thoughtfully. "Clever ideas, and unlike a lot of gimcracks at the time, they worked. Hermione, what are you thinking of doing?"

"I was thinking of trying for Auror training too. But something Minister Scrimgeour said makes me think I should try to go into Magical Law. If my Ancient Runes and Arithmancy aren't good enough for that, I should still have enough N.E.W.T.s to apply for the Auror program."

"I think," said Kingsley with a smile, "that _you_ will end up with marks good enough to do whatever you like. I am relieved that all of you are still considering the Ministry after all it's put you through these past several years.

"Let me explain a few things. Firstly, of course, what you all have done has made you famous, Harry most of all. I expect you haven't finished your mail from the past week." Harry shook his head ruefully. "The Death Eaters in the Ministry have of course been arrested or have fled. But that has left huge gaps in every department, and we badly need more people. And I may be facing a minor mutiny if we can't get Harry, at least, into the Auror Department. But please understand that I don't want to use any of you as 'poster children,' as Scrimgeour tried to do with Harry. That means that you will still need to earn your grades, and return here next year if required. If you do receive good enough marks next month, I'd like to offer all of you positions as interns or perhaps even Auror trainees for the summer.

"There's another thing that will affect you most of all, Harry. If you haven't started to receive invitations for personal appearances yet, you will soon. The Ministry has already received several from foreign countries for you. I can promise that the Department of International Magical Relations will help you deal with all that, but as an employee all such requests for your time would have to be funneled through the Ministry, and right now that would certainly be a great help to you. I can't deny you'd probably be assigned a few events, but we're not out to make your life difficult."

"Do I really have to do that sort of thing? I mean, I have no idea what they'll want of me!"

"There are a few you wouldn't need to worry about. Visiting patients at St. Mungo's, for instance, and I hear that Godric's Hollow wants to hold some sort of celebration this summer; a lot of people who knew your parents and grandparents would like to meet you. And the Australian Ministry was quite firm on the subject. We can send someone along with you and Hermione there, if you like, more or less as a coach.

"But none of that will happen until summer. What were you thinking of doing about your tests?"

"We've been deciding," replied Harry, glancing at the Headmistress. "Splitting them between this year and next seems to be the best idea. I know I can't do a year's worth of Potions in a month, and I'm not sure about Defense Against the Dark Arts--"

The Minister sounded surprised. "I'd think that would be the obvious one to take this year."

"I might pass, and I learned a lot this winter. But I know I haven't learned things that every other Auror has had to learn at N.E.W.T. level. I mean, Hermione knows Disillusionment charms, but mine aren't good enough to pass my N.E.W.T. yet. And Ginny pointed out that I might pass because of who I am, and that wouldn't be fair."

"Indeed it wouldn't; you may be right to be concerned. But I hear also that Professor Staines wants all of you to serve as tutors."

"And the others that were in the DA."

"Indeed. I came here to speak to them, as well. You will learn more and faster by teaching, so by all means oblige her. But here is what I'd suggest for all of you, if Professor McGonagall concurs. Take your Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s. If you can achieve 'Outstanding' in Defense Against the Dark Arts-- I do think you all can do that-- and 'Exceeds Expectations' in one of the others, you may be employed by the Ministry starting this summer, and will come back here for Potions and whatever other classes you need, or want, next year. If you do not get the scores you need next month, no one will be very surprised, and you will be able to come back here full- time next year and re- apply next summer. Is that satisfactory, Professor?"

"I believe so, Minister. The Governors are leaving practically everything in the hands of the staff as regards scheduling and attendance."

"Well, then. The closest thing to special treatment you'll get is receiving your scores within a week of taking the tests. And I promise that you'll still have all the help we can provide, no matter what you decide." He and McGonagall stood up.

"Ron, please let me know as soon as possible what you decide after N.E.W.T.s. Bear in mind that you should take them, even if you don't want to work for us immediately. Hermione, even you will have trouble if you try to swallow six subjects in a month; I think you can plan on being here full- time next year, so do try to enjoy yourself while you can. We'll be in touch about your Portkey to Australia. Harry, there's one other thing. You do have a good broom, correct?"

"Yes, a Firebolt--"

"Good. Keep up with Quidditch. Apparently the Warriors and the Thunderers are-- debating-- who gets to invite you first for a practice while you're in Australia, and the official invitation from Bulgaria mentioned that the Vultures' Seeker would enjoy flying with you. And leave the middle of August free; I think we can arrange to get you all to the World Cup. Good afternoon."

None of them said a word until they were halfway down the corridor. Then Ron whistled. "Not everybody gets a job like that handed to them, mate. You'll be about the youngest Auror ever."

"I haven't got it yet, and there's still school and three years of training to get through."

"Yes, you've got it, Harry," said Hermione. "I'll give him credit for having you work for it, but the truth is he could hire you right now and I bet no one in the Auror Department would say a thing against it. You beat Voldemort. They didn't."

"That's what I don't like! I haven't got anything near what I need to be an Auror!"

Hermione's patience finally wore thin. "Yes, you do, Harry! So what if your Disillusionment charms aren't perfect yet? They will be! So will all the other things you need to work on! And you aren't dealing with imbeciles who think you can do anything just because you're Harry Potter. You've got Kingsley and Professor McGonagall, and heaven help you, they'll work your fingers to the bone before they let you get into anything you're not prepared for! Oh, dear...."

She hadn't realized that she'd backed Harry up against the wall. Hermione hadn't really raised her voice, but it made little difference: the other sixth- and seventh- years, coming down the corridor for their own meeting with the Minister, were clapping and whistling as they passed. Ginny had materialized beside Ron, and they both merely stood and grinned, their arms crossed.

Then Harry smiled with them. She was right, after all. The Ministry would still use him, of course, and Hermione and Ron if they could; but at least Kingsley wouldn't try to use them to cover up the Ministry's mistakes or knowingly ask them to do anything wrong.

"_Repello Muggletum _is a harmless guard against Muggle intrusion. We could practice it all we want here, but we'd never know if we made it work. Hogwarts already has a very powerful, permanent Muggle- repelling spell at the boundary; so does any other purely magical home or neighborhood in this country, by law. Any Muggle who encounters a protected area will simply lose interest in going any farther; often he or she will remember or imagine some urgent business elsewhere. If a Muggle is already inside such a barrier, or is brought through by a magic- user, there are no ill effects and what was hidden will be visible unless otherwise disguised. However, we can perform _Salvio Hexia_ here. It's a very basic ward, meant to protect an area from intrusion. Harry?"

"This next one we can practice too. You've already done a Shield Charm--you know, _Protego_. That defends you against both spells and physical objects, and you have to be careful because it can make things ricochet, or even knock you back if you're casting it against something too big or powerful. But to protect a place, you have to define it. That means you point your wand at the ground and walk around the area, making sure to go the whole way around and join up with the spell where you began. The incantation is _Protego Totalum. _You can do any of these other spells at the same time without interference. To protect Hogwarts during the battle, I saw Professor Flitwick use an even more powerful spell, _Protego Horribilis_, but I don't know how to do it. I do know that it isn't harmless like these others. Ron?"

"Okay. We can practice a _Muffliato_ charm too. It's easy to recognize on its own; you'll see people talking but you won't hear them. We always used it with Disillusionment spells. There's loads of times it's really rude to use, and I don't think the teachers approve of it, but it might be useful when you need a little peace and quiet to study in. It won't stop anybody from walking in and interrupting, though. Okay-- you lot with me, you with Harry, you over there with Hermione, then we'll swap in a few minutes."

Professor Staines had organized the tutoring sessions so that two or three DA members worked with perhaps a dozen younger pupils, and had been quite firm that protection and disguise should be learned before offense when possible. She applauded the decisions of several more sixth- and seventh- years to try for Auror training after the Minister's meeting last Saturday.

Ginny wasn't one of them. She was tutoring a Defense group with Luna and Neville, but even before the first Quidditch practice she had proposed working with the other Chasers as time allowed. Harry reminded himself that Ginny wasn't facing N.E.W.T.s this year, and had spent most of the year in school already. And all three Chasers would now sit together, talking and laughing with the rest. Harry decided to keep his mouth shut.

A more immediate concern than even Quidditch was Transfiguration. Professor McIvor was not an experienced teacher. He was patient, genial and, as Hermione had said, very practical; much of the nonessential repair work about the castle was, in fact, being reserved for his classes. But although he was very proficient and enthusiastic about the subject at N.E.W.T. level and beyond, Harry and Ron as well as other N.E.W.T. students often found him a little hard to understand. Extra lessons had been scheduled for the three of them together; they were surprised and pleased to find that Professor McGonagall herself would be tutoring them.

The three of them were among the students permitted to drop both Potions and Herbology until the next term. Under the circumstances Harry was relieved; he wanted to be able to give both subjects proper attention. Even Hermione had realized the futility of trying to catch up in all of her subjects, and had let Arithmancy and Ancient Runes go for the time being.

The third weekend after the resumption of classes saw the return of Quidditch. Madame Hooch had scheduled that entire Saturday from nine in the morning on, and planned to have all three matches; with a limit of three hours for each game if the Snitch were not caught, it could be done, although there were grumbles about it not being real Quidditch, not with a time limit. Hermione noted that the grumblers were not taking O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. Both Demelza and Emrys Toop, the Hufflepuff sixth- year, had done well enough with their teams. After one hour and fifty- three minutes of Dean Thomas' commentary and some rather slow flying the Snitch was caught by Toop, breaking a score tied at one hundred and sixty, and only two players had been sent to the Infirmary. Harry's team faced the mostly- Ravenclaw team an hour afterward. Madame Hooch had settled the minor issue of uniforms by unearthing old orange and purple practice robes, threadbare and sleeveless so as not to overheat anyone in the humid late- May weather, and passing them from one set of players to the next. Harry, watching Edna deftly take up Stewart's dragging orange hem and laughing at something Ginny had said about playing in Chudley Cannon colors, was enjoying the day immensely.

Ginny had done a marvelous job with the Chasers; twenty minutes in, the only fouls from his players were one apiece for Ginny and Edna being in the scoring area while Stewart was trying to score. Harry noted that the opposing Beaters were unevenly matched, though their Chasers were careful and had committed no fouls yet.

A flurry of action involving most of the Chasers and a Bludger hit into them by the weaker of the purple- robed Beaters occasioned the first time- out half an hour later. Harry called it when he saw Edna emerge from the muddle cradling her numbed left arm; it hadn't been broken, but she was made to retire until she could move her fingers properly. The Ravenclaws evened the score a few minutes afterward. The opposing Seeker suddenly went into full flight; Harry caught him up easily and deftly avoided being crowded into the stands. There was no sign of the Snitch, and Harry realized he'd just had his new broom tested. But then there it was-- high up, flitting down toward them. His team was a goal down now. He missed the first grab-- the purple Seeker had bumped him out of the way but missed the catch himself. Harry banked to his left and rose, then rolled and dove, but the Snitch had vanished through the mass of Chasers. Harry saw Ron make a save and immediately duck a Bludger; Harry slewed to avoid its return, and saw the Snitch nearly at ground level midfield. He was after it an instant before the other Seeker, and this time he did not miss.

The Slytherin and mostly- Hufflepuff match started an hour after that. The Slytherins were fairly good; they played in their usual green House robes, with the Hufflepuffs (plus two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw) in orange. It was the quickest of the three matches; although the Hufflepuffs far out- scored the opposing Chasers-- the Slytherin Keeper was his team's weak point-- the Slytherin Seeker caught the Snitch, winning by a mere forty points in less than an hour. Much to everybody's surprise there were very few penalties awarded.

They were done in time for supper. The Quidditch Cup remained in the trophy case, but bottles of butterbeer appeared for the winning teams and pumpkin juice for the rest, and dinner was not formally dismissed until the party died down. Harry raised no objection when Ginny took his hand and led him outside for a stroll before sundown.

The next day Harry and Ron started to pay more attention to homework. Hermione was, as usual, encouraging them-- in the dorm that night Ron said "bossing"-- to pursue regular study habits and, with the exhilaration of a day of Quidditch in the past, study could no longer be avoided. O.W.L.s had produced glazed eyes and desperate cramming; N.E.W.T.s were naturally worse for those with full schedules. With practically none of the Charms classwork behind them they joined the other seventh- years in the Common Room, who let them read parchment after parchment of homework until their heads swam.

"Untransfiguration, in its purest form, must specifically define both states of the subject. For instance, Miss Granger turned a tapestry to stone with the command _Duro_, and reversed her work with the directly opposing command, _Tapeto ex duro_, which specified that stone be turned to cloth. This is why Transfiguration is a fairly secure method of storing or transporting an item; if it is made into something common and easily concealed, another person might have to spend a great deal of time finding which object had been changed before being able to restore its original form. However, there is usually some small trace of magic perceptible around a competently Transfigured object, which will disappear when the spell is reversed or removed. Such a trace is more noticeable with spells that overextend the user's skill; it actually retains a sort of memory of the original form. For this reason a general spell such as "Finite Incantatem" or "Revelio" is often effective in such a case. You have seen me use those at the end of a class. As of your final examinations last year, you have mastered most of the Transfiguration work you will ever need; now you will need to Untransfigure your work and others'. We will review some exercises from previous years. Please select a card."

Professor McGonagall had put aside two evenings a week for extra Transfiguration lessons, and had suggested that more might be scheduled if needed. After the session Harry tentatively asked a question that had been at the back of his mind lately.

"Professor, with all of this being so important-- it's been bothering me a little-- why _are_ we all here, instead of waiting 'til September? And why spend time on Quidditch?"

She looked surprised. "I would have thought it was obvious-- though you've been quite busy. You, and all your fellows who weren't here over the winter, are doing what you need to do for your futures, with people who need your company. As for Quidditch, after the rigors of the past year it really was necessary, even in such a limited form. The staff feels that the best way to heal such grief and pain as we have all been through is with activity and diversion. We all needed to enjoy something without reference to everything that has happened over the past year. Though I may never again believe that Hogwarts is absolutely safe, I will say that it is still the best place for you all to be just now. Most parents agreed as well, and so their children are here. They feel that there is some protection here from Death Eaters despite all that happened to the contrary."

"Hogwarts fought," said Hermione unexpectedly. "Even after all year with the Carrows. The Ministry didn't."

"Oh, but it did, Miss Granger. You won't have heard many details yet, of course. But the takeover last summer was masterfully done, and the Ministry failed in a most spectacular fashion. So indeed Hogwarts has much of which to be proud." She paused.

"As to why you three in particular are at Hogwarts, trying to pass two of your five N.E.W.T.s in an impossibly short time, the Minister is most anxious for Mr. Potter at least-- and hopefully all of you-- to help rebuild the Ministry in the coming years, practically from the ground up. You see, unlike in previous years, Mr. Potter, you are now famous entirely for something that you have done rather than for something that has happened to you. You will still need every bit of knowledge and skill that this school and the Auror Department can teach you, but you have already passed-- and surpassed-- any and every requirement for character and aptitude desired by the Auror Department. So have Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, and several others from Dumbledore's Army, although not all of you wish to become Aurors.

"At the risk of embarrassing you, it has very little to do with those few moments before Voldemort died; it has much more to do with your decision, made nearly a year ago according to the report you gave Kingsley, to abandon your schooling and even your friends in favor of fulfilling the task Dumbledore set you. More than that, you carried out that decision when the time came, and allowed others the chance to support you with their own gifts. It took every quality the Ministry requires, including logical thought and the capability to act quickly and decisively, to defeat Voldemort. And it took courage such as few Gryffindors ever know.

"And now, good evening to you all, until Thursday."

(End Part 4)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and elements are the property, copyright and trademark of Warner Bros. and J. K. Rowling and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.


	5. Recognition

Author's Notes: This is the fifth and last part of a continuation after chapter 36 of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, for no good reason except that I wanted to read a little more. Not knowing the rating system very well, this is for anybody who could read _DH_. I probably won't change anything due to criticism, constructive or not, because this was written strictly for my pleasure. Flames will be used to dispose of brush cuttings. Flattery will make me feel good.

I certainly will depart from canon on some points, try as I might not to do so. In any case, enjoy. (Further notes and Disclaimer at the end.)

Recognition

Had there been time, Professor McGonagall's words would have been food for several days' thought. As it was, however, time was in short supply indeed. She had set aside more evenings for the three of them, helping them through Professor McIvor's review of a year's worth of coursework they had missed. With four teachers and the DA-- both tutoring and being taught-- Harry found himself catching up.

Nor was he the only one. Ron's Untransfiguration was becoming more reliable, culminating in the detection and reversal of a newspaper (a _Daily Prophet_ among a pile of others to a casual glance, except that the text was fuzzy and both pictures were roving eyes) back to a Niffler, without even a letter remaining upon its fur. And both of them were quite shocked one Saturday morning to be awakened by a silver otter, telling them in Hermione's voice to hurry and dress if they wanted to accompany herself and Ginny to Hogsmeade.

They returned early; after all, they would soon be free to shop whenever they liked, but N.E.W.T.s came first. Aside from Honeydukes and the bookshop, they had only gone to the Hog's Head to pay their respects to Aberforth. It had been crowded full of DA members and the students they were tutoring. They had bought butterbeer to take back, laughing about Aberforth's newfound celebrity and the sour face he put on it.

That night in the dorm Neville laughed about it too. "I told him he'd be popular now, and the only way to get out of it was to close the bar and run," he said. In a more serious tone he continued. "But I did have to tell him that I went to see Mum and Dad that week, you know, and told them everything. Gran doesn't really believe me, but I think maybe they understood when I told them that Bellatrix and Voldemort were dead. I hope they did, anyway. They'll never get better, I know, but I had to tell them."

The next Sunday evening saw guests at the High Table, and the morning after that the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s began in the Great Hall. Their first test would be Charms on Monday, then Transfiguration on Tuesday with Defense Against the Dark Arts on Thursday. Every night for the past week Professor McGonagall had worked with them, until she wished them well Sunday evening in a more confident tone than Harry felt his work deserved.

"List the circumstances which determine the need for a specific repair charm rather than a general one, citing examples...."

"Using Gemino and Protean Charms, duplicate the matter on the parchment without loss of quality, and demonstrate changes to the original text transmitted to the copies...."

"Explain the theory behind the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration...."

"Enumerate all conditions that must be fulfilled when Transfiguring any higher vertebrate to an inanimate form without loss of life....

"And now, Mr. Potter, please demonstrate a multiple- phase Transfiguration, finding and removing the crystal from the rock matrix without permanent damage to either... How is this concept adapted for the healing arts?"

A brief breathing space on Wednesday with only one more test, but it was the one that would determine his immediate future.

"Fully describe the following, including incantations, discussing any and all circumstances under which they are illegal, and showing how each may be safely neutralized: Amortentia... Basilisk venom... Felix Felicis... Hand of Glory... Polyjuice Potion...."

"Without speaking, of course, please demonstrate a Disillusionment Charm upon yourself....

"Could you perform a Patronus Charm for me, please?" Harry had seen the other N.E.W.T. student in the room try one; he wondered if Patronuses had always been part of the exam. Neither he nor Ron could make theirs speak, nor had they tried multiple ones, but he suspected Hermione had done both for her examiner.

Less than one week from Charms to Defense Against the Dark Arts, and only three tests, but it spared none of them from exhaustion. Harry and Hermione waited in weary silence for Ron outside the Great Hall on the grey afternoon of their practical Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. Hagrid was home, already hosting Ginny and Luna for tea. There was time to see the yearling unicorns in the paddock, their golden coats barely beginning to dapple into silver, awaiting a class taking their finals next day.

"Testing ends next Friday, an' the train comes Tuesday after that," said Hagrid. "Don' suppose you lot have had time to listen to the rumors. Thought not. There's another ceremony, or what have you, planned for next Sunday."

"Again?"

"Yep. A bigger one, all sorts of guests from all over. More formal than that service we had," he said. "That was fer us here. This one'll be more for the rest of the country, an' all over, like. Won't be able to skip it."

"Nice to be told so soon...."

"I hadn't even heard any rumors...."

"Ah, well," said Hagrid. "I don' think yer s'posed ta know until nex' Friday. Shouldn't 'a told yeh, I expect."

Dinner was welcome that evening. Much as Harry would have liked a walk with Ginny, a shower sent them all back to the Common Room, still quiet because of exams the next day. Conversation trailed off as soon as they sat down in the comfortable chairs, and within the hour they began to drift away to bed, rain drumming against the windows; even Ginny, who still had finals next week.

The next day dawned damp and misty, but by midmorning the sun had broken through. Harry arose late, barely in time to grab toast and bacon to wolf down before the tables were put back for the Ancient Runes exams. At Ginny's urging he fetched his broom as she retrieved hers-- it had been George's, a newer Cleansweep, as he had kept Fred's-- and they flew over the Forest and the Lake and the grounds, as far as the barrier of spells would let them.

The end of his N.E.W.T.s drove home a point that Harry could avoid no longer. It had never occurred to him, that week at the Weasley's, that he should have waited for an invitation, or that he or Hermione should be anywhere else. But he couldn't live there, treating it like a hotel and imposing on Mrs. Weasley. He had his own house. And if he went to work at the Ministry in a few weeks, Grimmauld Place would be handier. But....

It was too big for just himself and Kreacher. It had been too big when Ron and Hermione were there too. He had always known exactly why Sirius had so enjoyed a houseful of guests, and how he had hated to be stuck there, unable to escape. And now he, Harry, was tied to it as well, even if only for Kreacher's sake; selling the place would break the old elf's heart, and Kreacher deserved better.

On the other hand, it was a chance to finish what Sirius had started, and clean it up. The first thing would be to suggest gently to Kreacher that the dead house- elves on the staircase ought to have a decent burial.

"I imagine you'll leave Sirius' room as it is," said Ginny as they entered the courtyard.

"And Regulus' room too. Not my choice of decor, but as far as I'm concerned Kreacher can have it. I hope we can take Mrs. Black down now, too."

Ginny sighed in exasperation. "I still need to learn to Apparate. That was another thing reserved for good Slytherins this year. You'll need to get Grimmauld Place hooked up to the Floo Network so I can come help."

"And your Mum won't object?"

"Don't be silly. She'll come along. She's not going to leave us alone, you know, especially in your own house. Even if it wasn't _that_ house. There's still a lot of dangerous stuff around, I bet."

"Mind you, she has a point."

Ginny snorted. "I don't know the half of what _she_ got up to at school...."

".... and I bet she'll never tell. Anyway, I'll probably be busy with Auror training or some of those personal appearances a lot of the time. And I want to help Mrs. Tonks."

"And I'll be at the shop a lot, but if you take me along to Mrs. Tonks' sometimes maybe I can help there too. She'll need someone more than George will need me." She drew a breath. "I really miss Tonks."

"So do I," said Harry.

At lunch Hermione waved them to the seats beside her and Ron, holding up a roll of parchment and all but bouncing into the air.

"It's from the Ministry!" she said excitedly. "We go there to catch a Portkey the Thursday after term ends, and there's all sorts of things scheduled for about a week, but first we see Mum and Dad. They've found out where they are and they'll keep an eye on them until we get there, but they won't try to fix their memories until I'm there."

Ron broke in. "Meanwhile you'll stay with us, and we'll all just go to work with Dad that day. Mum's said. I'm going, too," and he looked pleased. "They want to see all three of us! We'll go in on Wednesday with Dad too, they want to go over some stuff."

Harry felt Ginny slump at his side: Left behind, again, no doubt. To his surprise Ron noticed.

"Sorry, Ginny. We asked Mum and Dad if you could go, that day we found out about getting a Portkey, and Mum wouldn't hear of it until you were of age even if the Ministry sent someone along. They aren't too keen on me going, really."

"I knew they wouldn't want me to. Thanks anyway, though." She still sounded disappointed. And no wonder, thought Harry: she'd come of age only two months from now. Mrs. Weasley might not object to his seeing Ginny, but he wondered if maybe she was being a bit too strict. No, maybe not. It was hard for him to tell, of course, never having had normal parents or a sister, but Mrs. Weasley would probably not want to let go of Ginny anytime soon. Losing Fred probably had a lot to do with it.

Someday Ginny would get to travel. He'd make sure of that. Where was the World Cup this year, anyway? No point in bringing it up just now, though. They must deal with Mr. and Mrs. Granger first. Hermione handed him the letter. Mornings set aside for the Warriors and the Thunderers caught his eye, of course; and they -- or at least, he-- seemed set to visit every major city for dinner for a week.

After lunch Harry called Kreacher, and told him that he'd be leaving his trunk at Grimmauld Place on the Tuesday after next before going to the Weasley's, and about Australia.

"Master will be living in his house after he returns?"

"Yes. Is there anything I should take care of?"

"Kreacher will do all that Master needs. Shall Kreacher make ready the Master Bedroom?"

"I don't think so, really. One of the smaller rooms will do fine for me right now-- how about that one just off the first floor landing?"

"As Master wishes...."

Harry had to hide a smile as the conversation ended. Kreacher, having accepted Harry as his new master, was subtly trying to mold him into a proper Black. Not too much, of course, and not obviously. But he, Harry, had a lot to learn yet in some ways. Tonks had mentioned having to learn disguise and such; Kreacher might well be a mine of information, however indirectly, on how to conduct himself in polite Wizard society.

The weekend went by, then the last week of finals. Ginny was done on Wednesday and joined the pick-up games of Quidditch. Harry couldn't remember being at school with so little to do for so long; he wished he could go shopping, but it occurred to him that he didn't even know where the nearest Muggle town was. His jeans and trainers had worn badly over the winter, and he'd need better clothes soon for work and this trip. Somehow he simply couldn't picture himself in robes all the time. Another thing to do next Wednesday.

The announcement was made at dinner on Friday that Hogwarts would host a formal gathering of the magical community of the country on Sunday afternoon. Shirts, ties, clean robes, and polished shoes were expected of all students that day, as was the highest standard of courtesy and decorum for all visitors at all times. Guests would come, some to be housed within the school and grounds from Saturday evening through Monday morning; many visitors were expected from other countries; all were to be made welcome. Students were to avoid the area used for the last such gathering until the guests had departed, unless they were willing to help the staff with the preparations. The student body would remain in the Great Hall from lunch on Sunday until the procession to their places at the ceremony. That would be all for the moment.

For some reason, people thought Harry might know what it was all about. Harry had an idea, as did Ginny and Hermione and Ron, but by tacit agreement none of them voiced their suspicions, only saying with perfect accuracy that they knew nothing for certain. That didn't stop rumors from springing up and multiplying. By bedtime, Harry was somewhat surprised to learn that he had been voted the new Minister for Magic and had told Ron so a week ago. Ron whooped. At breakfast on Saturday morning they all sat with Luna who, startled and pleased but perfectly composed as ever, had been keeping Neville, Seamus, and Dean laughing by repeating the logic behind the most outrageous gossip from Ravenclaw.

Guests started arriving after lunch. Thestrals pulled carriages to and from Hogsmeade every few hours, but as the afternoon was fine a great many simply walked up the long drive, some with broomsticks over their shoulders. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had just finished with a game of Quidditch and were crossing the courtyard when Ginny looked up.

"Oh, Dad will have a _fit_! Look at that!"

"That" was an airplane, circling the castle. Harry didn't know much about airplanes, but with two canvas- covered wings and propellers it was surely at least seventy years old; it was big-- was there even a place it could land safely? It was magic, of course; there was noise, but not enough for a normal aircraft that size.

It swept away for a few minutes, and when they caught sight of it again it was obvious that it would land on the lake. As they watched, it touched down and grated up onto the pebbly beach on floats that Ron swore hadn't been there when it was flying over the grounds. After a moment it began disgorging staggering passengers, quite a number of which simply sat or flopped down.

"Out of my way, move aside, please! Who-- oh, Potter, it's you. Would you mind terribly? You've got a broom, could you fly this down to those poor people? I'll fetch the Headmistress. All they need is a mouthful; just duplicate the glass on top. Quickly now, I'll be there momentarily." Harry went; no one refused Madame Pomfrey.

He pulled up after a few seconds' flight, and sorted out how to duplicate the glass and pour out Madame Pomfrey's Ginger Tonic, handing it out to the green- faced unfortunates on the beach. When he noticed what Harry was doing, a wizard with a flat American accent told him to keep pouring as he replicated glasses and called a witch over to distribute the medicine. Madame Pomfrey appeared with a second bottle and Professor McGonagall. By this time some of the stricken were on their feet, looking a little dazed but otherwise in better color. Harry would have retreated, but for a gesture from McGonagall.

He glanced at the plane. A design of scattered stars and swirling stripes covered the entire surface; "The Salem Witches' Institute" was painted on the side. Harry wondered if the middle- aged witch with the straw- colored hair and goggles, shaking the Headmistress' hand and introducing herself as Dean Sarah Miller- call- me- Sally, was one of those he had seen at the World Cup. It seemed that the American Ministry-- no, Department-- of Magic had prevailed upon the Salem Institute for transport, which had run into foul weather.

Professor McGonagall was introducing Madame Pomfrey, and then Harry, who was sure he would never remember all the names; the guests were from all over North America, a mix of U.S. Department and Canadian Ministry officials and staff from several schools. He was shaking the hand of a dark- haired man when an outcry and a loud slurping noise made them both look out over the water. Harry was not really surprised to see a whirlpool forming in the middle of the lake. Professor McGonagall took him aside.

"Potter, would you do me a favor? Please tell Professors Flitwick and Slughorn to prepare for a strong storm this evening, and to protect the seating arrangements accordingly. They're setting things up now. Once your broom is put away, I'd like you and your friends to help greet our guests in the entrance hall. Everyone seems to be arriving at once. Quickly now, and thank you."

Harry ran up the bank, tried a silent "_Accio Firebolt!_" and jumped astride as it rose from the grass where he'd left it.

"Harry, m'boy! Where's the fire?" Professor Slughorn was in the best humor Harry could remember for weeks as he and Flitwick arranged seats.

"Professor McGonagall wants you to get ready for a storm. That plane that just landed came through one and they were all airsick."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. No, wait a moment! Horace, perhaps you'd best go to the castle and greet our guests. If you could help here, Mr. Potter, it won't take but a moment. Go quickly around the field, so-- _Protego Totalum_, if you please-- no need to walk, of course, use your broom! Go on!"

Harry did so. When he had encircled the area Professor Flitwick raised his arms above his head, saying "_Impervius_ _Tempestas!_" as an enormous dome shimmered into sight above where Harry had put down his spell.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. We'll leave it like that whether or not it rains. I so dislike wet seats. And see-- in a few hours that will be here." He waved vaguely to the west, where fluffy clouds were piling over the horizon. "Now go on. I've just a few touches to finish yet."

Professor Slughorn laughed as Harry flew past. Most of the students were now in the courtyard watching the ship; it had anchored by the same bank it had used years before and was running out its gangplank. He found Ron and Neville together in the courtyard, relayed McGonagall's message--

"Who's she want?" said Ron.

Harry hesitated. "She just said me and my friends--"

"Good enough," said Neville. "LISTEN EVERYONE--"

By the time the North Americans and the representatives of Ministries from all over Eastern Europe had reached the courtyard and the entry hall, most of the students and staff of Hogwarts were assembled to greet them in something approaching good order. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were to the fore, as were the prefects and Professor Slughorn, who had caught his breath; Professor McGonagall looked pleased at the display, though somehow not surprised.

Harry vaguely remembered the Bulgarian Minister from the World Cup, and recalled the names of most of the people from the airplane, despite the fact that they looked much healthier than they had those few minutes before. The delegation from Hungary had just entered the courtyard when some first- years started yelling behind them.

"How much?" said Ron in an undertone.

"I'm not betting," said Harry with a grin. "It's Beauxbatons, isn't it?"

"Had to try."

"Were we ever that young? Listen to 'em."

"Oi, you lot! Pipe down! They'll be here soon enough!" Ron rolled his eyes. "Nope. We were never, ever _that_ bad." Beyond him Hermione turned away, one hand over her mouth, but she had controlled her laughter long before Madame Maxime strode into the yard, trailing a cloud of dignitaries.

In her train were more familiar figures. As soon as she had curtsied to Professor McGonagall, Gabrielle Delacour detached herself from her parents and gave Ginny a hug before greeting rest of them. The man who had entered behind the Delacours shuffled forward to pump Harry's and Ron's hands and, more gently, Hermione's. Harry was relieved to see that Ron was neither surprised nor jealous; and for his part Harry was glad-- he wanted to talk with Viktor Krum.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and of course Bill and Fleur were included in the guest list for dinner that night, as were the Diggorys and the Delacours: all connections to the Triwizard champions. They sat with Krum and Fleur near the High Table. Somehow room had been made for everyone, although it was the first time since the battle that the hall looked full to Harry. The ceiling was a dark and roiling grey, shot through by lightning in time to muted thunder, which somehow made for comfortable conversation. There was a little time to visit privately with the Weasleys afterward, before they and the Delacours returned to the Burrow. When the rain slacked off and the other guests returned to their conveyances or to Hogsmeade for the night, Krum informed the Headmaster of Durmstrang that he wished to visit his friends and would return to the ship later.

They invited Krum to the Common Room, claiming a corner and using a Muffliato charm for some privacy. Harry first apologized, explaining that he had had to be in disguise for Bill and Fleur's wedding, and had the singular experience of hearing Krum laugh.

"So you vere Barny. I thought you seemed familiar. It vos vell done," he chuckled. "Your Ministry came looking for you, but I saw you three get avay. They vere not bright. Vun tried to qvestion me, and at the end four of them vere shouting at me. Then somevun recognized me and made me go."

"I'm glad you got away all right. Really, they wouldn't have stopped at cursing you, or anyone there."

"Oh, I know," said Krum. "But also they vere pushing around the old vuns. Even the vun vith Grindelvald's sign-- he did not deserve that, he did not know vot he vore."

"Um, yes. About that-- I found out more about it," said Harry, feeling his way cautiously. "It _was_ a mark that Grindelwald used, but it was a lot older than he was. Have you ever heard of a story about three brothers trying to cheat Death, with three objects? A wand, a stone to call up the dead, and an Invisibility Cloak?"

"I haf heard it, ven I vos very small. It is English, correct?"

"Yes. It was true, in a way. Three wizards did make those objects, centuries ago. Mr. Lovegood is a little strange about some things, and he knows some of the legends about them. That's what the mark means here, where not many people remember a lot about Grindelwald. But even so, very few people know anything about the sign." This still wasn't easy. "Dumbledore and Grindelwald were friends for awhile, before Grindelwald started gaining power, and they were obsessed with these things. When Grindelwald came to England for a summer, after he'd been expelled from Durmstrang, he had been using that sign for a long time and no one else there would have recognized what it meant. I-- thought you'd like to know."

Krum was silent for a moment. "Lovegood-- he vill come tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure. His daughter's here, but he wasn't well the last time I saw him."

"If he does not come, I vill go to him. I should apologize," said Krum. "You say this children's story vos true, that these things vere real?"

"Yes, they were. The wand wasn't unbeatable, the stone could only make memories look solid to one person, and the Cloak isn't as useful as a good Disillusionment charm. But they existed."

"You had them, but no longer? They are destroyed, maybe?"

"They're-- out of reach."

"Good. Everybody must know," stated Krum. "No vun needs another Grindelvald or Voldemort, and if these things are gone, some idiots might think tvice before trying to play at dark vizards. But for now-- I saw the beginning, three years ago, and haf heard little since. I could learn nothing from England since August, until ve heard of the battle many days after. Vot happened here?"

At the end of an hour the audience had grown; Demelza, Coote, and Peakes had joined them when Ginny waved them in, as had Neville, Dean, and Seamus, whom Krum very vaguely remembered. Demelza had been prevailed upon to tell of her nighttime flight from France, which seemed to impress Krum, although he was most interested in the fighting.

Once he referred to Harry winning the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry shook his head. "That was fixed from the start. I doubt they'll hold it again, with the way it ended. I wish it had been straightforward-- it was so unfair to the rest of you. I only won because Voldemort's man cheated for me."

"No," said Krum flatly, to Harry's surprise. "If you ask Fleur, she vill say as I do, that ve should haf known better because you alvays said you did not enter yourself. And from all I haf ever heard of this Dark Lord, it vos good that your vands vere so the same, because ve could haf done no better than Cedric without that. This spy of Voldemort's, he took to himself too much credit. He did not face your tasks for you. If you still doubt, I haf heard today from Madame Maxime that she vishes to host the next tournament. By then perhaps she--" he looked at Demelza-- "vill be old enough to compete. And Hogvarts vill be even harder to beat after all you haf done."

The conversation turned to the upcoming World Cup, which would be held in Luxembourg, and Harry let it go on without him. He'd never have guessed that Krum and Fleur felt that way, but then the Triwizard Tournament had always been something too awkward to discuss with Fleur.

He rather thought he'd heard more words from Krum in the past hour than during the entire year of the tournament. Something else fell into place too: he bet the visitors were here from all over because of the fiasco at the World Cup Finals four years ago. That made sense. They were to be shown that Voldemort really was dead and the Death Eaters disbanded.

Krum shook hands or kissed them, as required, and Hermione escorted him to the castle doors before they were shut for the evening.

"I won't call him a chatterbox," she said a little later, "but I think he's learned how to converse. It's stopped raining again, too."

Ginny giggled. "I heard him at the wedding. It's a good thing I don't know Bulgarian. I never gave it a thought that he was doing it on purpose."

"I bet he didn't, either."

"Oh, Ron! Don't be jealous."

"Yeah, Ron," chimed in Ginny. "Just because he's an international Qvidditch star, and knows how to dance, and speaks four languages, and vould look quite good if he stood up straight--"

"And how do you know he can speak four languages?"

"Fleur told me," said Ginny. "Or haven't you noticed how good his English is now? Anyvay, I'm off to polish my shoes."

Dawn came, the sky cool and clear. Everywhere else was soaked except for the seats under Flitwick's dome. As the morning wore on, more visitors arrived from Hogsmeade, and Ron swore he saw flying carpets over the lake. Unlike the service after the battle, visitors were escorted in groups around the grounds and inside parts of the castle, with staff members or Ministry people showing points of interest. Harry was apparently a point of interest, until Professor Babblings rescued him.

The lunch guests at the High Table rose and left before the students were allowed to get up and stretch. Professor Slughorn had made plain to Harry that this time he most certainly would be in the front row, his friends with him. They passed in sight of Dumbledore's tomb, almost buried in offerings of flowers. As the procession passed down through the standing crowd he, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean, and Neville were separated from the rest of Gryffindor and shown to their seats, joined by Luna, Ernie, and more DA members, taking up the front rows. They faced a dais with more seats on risers, blocking a view of the lake. They were filled with the dress robes of the heads of the foreign delegations and the black and maroon robes of the Wizengamot. There was a man in an ordinary dress suit that Harry would never have noticed if the man hadn't been so obviously trying not to stare at everything. Then the thunder of hooves: Centaurs galloped up from the forest, an untidy line suddenly stopping and wheeling to ring the assembly neatly, churning up muddy clumps as they did so. A loud _crack_, and the house- elves seated themselves.

Finally Kingsley Shacklebolt rose and began to speak.

"Members of the magical community of this nation, Mr. Prime Minister, and honored guests from the far corners of our world, thank you for coming here today; Headmistress McGonagall, I wish to thank you and the staff of Hogwarts for allowing this assembly to take place on Hogwarts grounds.

"We have all experienced the upheaval of the past years. Some of us found it necessary to depart these islands, or to go into hiding. Many of us had no choice or chance to do otherwise than endure. All of us were at risk of persecution or loss of life itself. Not all of us realized just what was happening when the warning signs finally showed themselves. Not all of us had the means to act.

"A year ago, this country gathered to mourn Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Several weeks ago, many of us gathered here to hear the story of the battle here at Hogwarts, to rejoice at our freedom, to mourn our dead. Today we gather to honor those who worked and fought for that freedom.

"Firstly, I wish to announce the publication of a book. Headmistress McGonagall assigned to every Hogwarts student the task of setting down what he or she experienced. The Ministry asked the same of many others. Many of you contributed. The original materials have been copied and will be archived, both here and at the Ministry of Magic. The result is this volume, giving an account of the battle as complete as could be compiled in the time given. Copies for the free use of the public will be distributed to all magical communities, and it will be published for sale as well. Eventually other volumes will be added, documenting more of the past years.

"Madame Pince, please take charge of this, the first copy of the first edition, for the Hogwarts school library.

"Secondly, at the request of the Wizengamot, I am pleased to declare the first Saturday of May a holiday from this time forward, as long as the magical community of these islands remembers Lord Voldemort and the horrors wrought by his lust for power. This holiday will start the evening before, on Friday at sundown, and is intended as a memorial not only for those who fought and died at Hogwarts but also for all victims of the Death Eaters throughout the years. At sunrise on the first Saturday of May we will take time to remember the moment of the Dark Lord's defeat.

"Thirdly, I wish to bring to your attention a common failing of governments and organizations of all sorts, both magical and non- magical. Any honors that may be bestowed will never tell the complete tale of how they were earned; never will every act of every person who deserves such honor be recognized. By their nature they are awarded to a few who must in their turn represent the efforts and sacrifices of many. The great number to be given today, more than at any other single time in centuries, will remind us as long as we live of the bravery and tragedy seen on these grounds.

"In this country, one honor in particular has gained preeminence. The Order of Merlin was originally awarded to those witches and wizards who had promoted peace with, understanding of, or protection of, the non- magical population of this country. Over time, especially since the Statute of Secrecy took effect, the emphasis has shifted to recognize service to the wizarding world almost exclusively. Ten months ago, under Voldemort's orders, it was declared obsolete.

"Last month the Wizengamot unanimously voted to revive the Order of Merlin. For the first time they have defined and clarified its qualifications. Little has changed from previous centuries. The Order of Merlin is now officially the highest honor that can be bestowed by this nation upon a magical being, beast, or spirit"-- Harry heard Hermione's sharp breath-- "for service to either or both the magical and non- magical worlds. Each case must now be reviewed by an impartial committee before being submitted for final approval to the Wizengamot. This is in accordance with the original practice of the Council of Wizards, long since laid aside.

"The Order of Merlin, Third Class, is bestowed upon those who act with extraordinary selflessness and courage for the benefit of others, Magical or Muggle.

"The Order of Merlin, Second Class, is awarded to those who defend and promote the well- being of others, and who uphold Magical Law and the Statute of Secrecy at risk of their own well- being, in the face of opposition.

"The Order of Merlin, First Class, is given to those witches and wizards who not only fulfill the conditions for Third and Second Class, but do so knowingly risking or giving their own lives in defense of and for the benefit of others, Magical or non- Magical, and display the highest level of gallantry in the face of an enemy.

"Order of Merlin, Third Class: Mrs. Arabella Figg... Madame Poppy Pomfrey....

Ordinary citizens and Ministry workers, who had protected their neighbors and friends all winter; some of the people who had come from Hogsmeade and St. Mungo's that morning, not so much to fight but to help the wounded.

"Order of Merlin, Second Class: Mr. Dedalus Diggle, Miss Hestia Jones..."

Well, they deserved it, for having put up with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia all that time.

".... Professor Babblings... Sinistra... Trelawney... Vector... Madame Pince...."

All the staff who had gone with the evacuated students that night, keeping most from joining the battle or running in panic, and who had tried all year to keep their students out of the way of the Carrows; others who had stayed that night. Some students, who had resisted the Carrows or helped to evacuate the school. Then some of the house- elves, who had hidden students in the kitchens on occasion, and even ghosts and Peeves.

"Order of Merlin, First Class: Professor Minerva McGonagall, Professor Pomona Sprout, Professor Filius Flitwick, and Professor Horace Slughorn, who organized the defense of Hogwarts and its evacuation, and fought the Death Eaters within the school.

"Professor Firenze and Professor Rubeus Hagrid, who defended their students all year and joined in a battle of magic although not being permitted wands under wizarding law." Harry sensed a change in policy coming.

"Professor Remus Lupin, deceased, Auror Nymphadora Lupin-- better known as Tonks-- deceased, Mr. Arthur Weasley, Mr. William and Mrs. Fleur Weasley, Mr. Percy Weasley, Mr. Fred Weasley, deceased, Mr. George Weasley...."

Practically every member of the Order; those who had gone out onto the grounds or guarded the entrances. The list went on. And on.

"Mr. Aberforth Dumbledore, who supported students in hiding all year, who helped organize the evacuees, and then joined in the battle.

"Mr. Lee Jordan, now best known to the magical community at large as 'River' of _Potterwatch_, whose last broadcast notified the nation that Hogwarts would fight Lord Voldemort, just before he came himself." At this point the crowd erupted into wild applause, and would not be silenced for quite a long time.

"Mr. Neville Longbottom, who dealt with Voldemort's snake, overcoming Voldemort's curse to do so.

"The centaurs Bane, Magorian, and Ronan, who led the final charge against the Death Eaters, breaking their formation and driving them into the castle.

"Kreacher the house- elf, who chose to lead his fellow house- elves into the battle instead of evacuating. Their action ensured the defeat of the majority of the remaining Death Eaters." Kingsley had to wait for them to settle down.

"Miss Ginerva Weasley and Miss Luna Lovegood, who dueled Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's lieutenant; and Mrs. Molly Weasley, who defeated her."

More applause and shouting, with several voices cheering for Mum.

"Headmaster Severus Snape, deceased, who for sixteen years was a faithful agent of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, actively posing as a Death Eater in Voldemort's service for the last three years of his life. Even as he died he passed on the information needed to defeat Voldemort.

"Finally, Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Ronald Weasley, who have risked their lives time and time again over the past seven years, not only to defeat a dark wizard or to save their school, but for the sake of friendship. And--

"Mr. Harry Potter."

After the excitement of the last few days, the monotony of the Hogwarts Express had put the others to sleep in the midafternoon heat, including Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks. The seat wasn't really comfortable, even with Ginny drowsing beside him, but Harry had other things to think about.

There had been a brief and vague talk with Firenze, and finding out that the centaurs had been waiting for the final event to try to interpret the signs they had read both for death and life. Firenze refused to be drawn out further, saying only that both the signs and Harry's experience were unprecedented.

There had been Professor Trelawney's announcement at the Leaving Feast, that she felt a need to depart the school on a quest for greater understanding. The responses, whether regretful or pleased, had at least been sincerely supportive. Harry wondered if she had ever realized that Hogwarts had been her prison ever since she'd made that prophecy.

There had been the meeting with Kingsley and Professors McGonagall and Babblings after dinner on Sunday. He had gotten his "Outstanding" N.E.W.T. in Defense Against the Dark Arts-- they all had-- and Exceeded Expectations for the other two. Starting tomorrow, he would officially be an Auror trainee; in September he would be a part- time student, as would Ron, for Herbology and Potions. Perhaps for Care of Magical Creatures, too; that would depend upon what his Auror trainers thought.

It would disappoint the Quidditch team that he'd refused the Captaincy for the coming year, but it was a job for a resident student, and it wasn't that important to him anymore. Likewise he'd refused the post of Head Boy, as tempting as it was to follow in his father's footsteps. Ideally that should be Neville, he'd said, if Neville saw the need to return. They had all agreed. Kingsley still insisted, however, that he would be able to take time for Quidditch. Harry hadn't known that he could earn credit for his training by doing so-- every Auror was expected to be competent on a broom-- but in addition Kingsley seemed to think it would be some sort of good publicity, since the amateur Ministry matches were practically unknown. He'd smiled at Harry's surprise that such things existed. Harry had then gone out, sending Ron and Hermione in.

Hermione had all three "Outstandings" and Ron an "Exceeds Expectations" in Transfiguration and an "Acceptable" in Charms. Hermione's internship would start when she returned from Australia; she would still be a full- time student next year with four classes.

Ron, for the same reasons as Harry, had declined both the Quidditch Captaincy and Head Boy badge. "Mum will throw a fit, of course. But I don't need 'em and I won't have time, either, although George will probably be okay with me leaving early for practice if I make the team. Let Ginny do it."

They hadn't told her yet; it would wait for the official letter.

Yesterday morning had still been clear, and he had gone down to the Quidditch pitch with the others. Their Durmstrang guests had been practicing with Viktor Krum, under Madame Hooch's appreciative eye. Gordon and Edna had shown up shortly with friends, and before long Hogwarts was cheerfully losing a match. Harry would remember it. He'd gotten to fly against Viktor Krum.

For the first time Harry had really used his Firebolt. He'd never had to fly like that before in a match, and he had learned more in that hour from Krum than in all his years of flying for Gryffindor. After the first few minutes Krum had not pulled any punches, and had been flying as if it were the Cup Final in two months.

They'd each avoided getting ploughed twice, and had likewise ducked out before getting shouldered into the stands; Krum had bumped Harry's broom, not from the side as usual, but from beneath with his shoulder; Harry, on the outside of a turn, had ducked beneath Krum's broom to dive after the Snitch a split second before Krum could make the turn. Hundreds of feet up, Krum made a wild grab, actually coming off his broom, holding on with one hand-- then calmly fell for several seconds until he could swing a leg over and turn the fall into a dive. After an hour of battering each other at top speed, they were climbing neck and neck, straining after the Snitch; Harry thought he had it, lunged, and closed his hand-- on Krum's left glove instead.

They returned to the field, both mobbed by the crowd that had gathered. Krum, scarcely out of breath, had shaken Harry's hand; so had the Bulgarian Minister, beaming. Harry hadn't broken any records, but as Ron and Madame Hooch pointed out, he had lasted longer than a great many of Bulgaria's opponents. It was worth the ringing ears and windburn and exhaustion.

It felt better than getting an Order of Merlin, really. Kingsley himself had pointed out that no one in his right mind would want to earn one, and that he was certain every recipient would gladly toss it in the garbage if it meant that any one of the fatalities wouldn't have happened. Hermione had said that it would mostly remind her of Harry standing upright as Voldemort fell, the moment she'd known that she would always be able to cast a Patronus. Ron and Ginny had agreed.

Ginny stirred under his arm. A little over a year ago had been one of the worst days of his life-- Dumbledore dead, Ginny sent away from him, the Ministry trying to use him. Now-- his life would still not be easy, no Auror's was; but the past two months had held some of the best times he could remember. More would come.

Not knowing he had succumbed, Harry slept.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This is the last installment of Aftermath. I hope you enjoyed reading it, as I have enjoyed writing it. (I.e., hopefully you didn't fall asleep before Harry did.)

Firstly, to God be the glory, although He didn't write this. It's not that good.

Next, to the folks on the Forum: Without you'ns, especially Alan, Vermis Libris, Daniac (thanks again for the link!) et al, I'd never have finished this, much less posted it.

Literary note: Much as I enjoyed writing this, please realize that it is, strictly speaking, unnecessary. I just thought it might be fun to write up to where the books usually end. This is probably because JKR switched some dramatic conventions around in DH, beginning the crisis with a wedding feast and ending with advice from (and to) a mentor; it does leave one with that after- dinner craving for dessert.

Historical note: The closest thing to the Battle of Hogwarts and the Orders of Merlin awarded (passed out like candy, but I couldn't see a way around that) might be the defense of Rourke's Drift in the Zulu Wars; see the movie _Zulu_ and read the end notes. There are also British medals for civilians which sound a bit like the Order of Merlin, some that were created during the Blitz. Be it noted that none of these come cheap. I didn't enumerate all the medals I gave out here, but I'd guess over fifty for this one incident (all grades) including posthumous ones. (There aren't any Wizarding military honors, of course; there are police but no military.) In the real world it would probably have been fewer than half that.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and elements are the property, copyright and trademark of Warner Bros. and J. K. Rowling and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.


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